A Rather Silly AU Fic
by Kiri Ame
Summary: Poland's fairy godfather has just had a brilliant idea - to turn him into a knight by having him win his way through the Chivalry Cup! With his trusty squire Lithuania by his side, Poland sets out on his long, rocky and strange journey...
1. Advice

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – What is this I don't even – Just – Just humour me and read it. I have no idea why I wanted to write this, but I did. And I think I'll keep writing it, even though it's completely ridiculous, because it's fun and I don't really have to think too much while writing it (you can probably tell that I was half-asleep writing most of this.)

On the other hand, if you like it, that's great!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Everything originated in Korea, but I guess you could say Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Who isn't me.**

**Chapter 1 – Advice**

The little rural village of East was, to all intents and purposes, a very ordinary place. The people who lived there were decent, stable types; the history of the place was extraordinary uneventful, and even the scenery seemed to be at peace with itself and the rest of the world. At this point in the description, most writers would assure you that East was the most unlikely place in this particular universe for a story to begin. However, since the story clearly _is_ beginning here, it would be pointless to try and trick you by claiming that it isn't, especially since this is a fanfiction and you're probably just reading this in the vague hope that one of your favourite pairings will turn up.

At any rate, there was actually a point to this little bit of scene-setting; it was, in fact, designed to introduce you, the audience, to the main character, who you are almost certainly already familiar with, since you probably got here by searching for fanfiction involving him. It was none other than an Alternative Universe version of everyone's favourite crossdresser, Poland! – Who in this continuum, happened to be a simple farm boy. This isn't to say that he didn't don the occasional dress when he felt like it. I mean, even simple farm boys still like to feel pretty sometimes. But that's not the point.

Anyway, our story began on a warm summer's evening, when, just as Poland was beginning to sort of maybe consider going to bed, a man dressed in what appeared to be a white toga materialised in front of him.

Poland almost choked on his own exclamations of shock.

"What – what are you – how did you -" he managed to stutter. The figure in the toga sighed, folding a pair of feathery wings behind his back.

"Calm down and listen to what I have to tell you. Honestly, the way some people react to magic these days. It's not like it's at all uncommon around here."

"Normally people don't just, like, warp into existence in other peoples' living rooms!" protested Poland. The ghost, or fairy, or whatever-he-was shrugged.

"I guess it is bad form, but the truth is, I'm not at all normal, and neither are you. Poland, I'm your fairy godfather, and I have a task for you." Poland folded his arms.

"So… You're my fairy godfather or something, right?"

"Yes, I just said that."

"So, aren't you meant to, like, protect me?"

"Protect and advise, yes."

"Then why did you just barge into my house and start telling me what to do?" demanded the farmhand.

"It's in your own best interests," said the fairy shortly. "Now, shut up and listen to me. I didn't ask to be your godfather, and frankly, I'm working overtime to deliver this message to you, so I don't want to have to repeat myself. Poland, I'm sure you're aware that the King has decided to give out knighthoods to anyone, commoner or otherwise, who can win the top place in the official Chivalry Cup that began recently?" Poland rolled his eyes.

"Everyone knows that."

"Yes. Well, anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that you yourself could compete in the Cup if you wanted to."

"But I don't want to."

"But you should."

"Why?"

"Because it would be a good experience, and because I say so and I am your fairy godfather and I know best," snapped the fairy.

"You're pretty grouchy for a magical helper," observed Poland. His godfather sighed deeply.

"Look, I'm just going to take it for granted that you'll follow my advice and start your journey sometime tomorrow, OK?" The edges of his form began to glow with white light.

"Wait a second!" shouted Poland, jumping to his feet. The fairy stopped disappearing for a moment to fold his arms and glare.

"What?"

"If you're my fairy godfather, you should tell me your name so I can call for you when I need help," said Poland. "Isn't that what your kind normally do?"

"Oh, great. Just what I need; some idiot calling me up every other minute," retorted the fairy. "Well, if you must know, my name is England. Use it wisely," he added, and vanished, leaving our protagonist with a rather odd sense of vertigo; almost as if his entire world had been tipped on its head, never to be the same again.

Of course, it had.


	2. Squire

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – So… Chapter 2, huh? These chapters are short, so I can probably keep putting them up quickly for now, at least. Also, apparently this has already got almost thirty hits. And no reviews. So, if you read it… review, please? *puppy dog eyes* I need to learn how to write properly.

Also, anyone who guesses where the name for Poland's pony came from gets a cookie. But not a big cookie, since I stumbled across the name very easily by accident. Still, cookies are cookies, right?

**Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, posted on **__**. I own nothing.**

**Chapter 2 – Squire**

"Liet! Like, stop digging for a second and listen to me!" demanded Poland, grabbing his best friend by the shoulders and shaking him. Liet, known as Lithuania to everyone except Poland, put down his shovel and looked up, smiling.

"And good morning to you, too," he said.

"I had, like, the weirdest thing happen to me last night," Poland began. "You totally won't believe this, but my fairy godfather came to me and told me I should, like, compete in the Chivalry Cup and become a knight!" Lithuania blinked, and then gently prized his friend's hands off his shoulders.

"That was probably just a dream," he said quietly.

"No way," argued Poland. "My dreams are way weirder than that. Anyway, the thing is, I'm going to take his advice and become a knight! But if I'm going to be a knight, I totally need a squire, and that's where you come in." He grinned.

"Oh no," replied Lithuania.

"Why not?" whined Poland. "It's, like, a totally great idea!"

"No. I'm too busy to be dragged into something that resembles the plotline of a bad alternate universe fanfic," Lithuania said.

"HEY! THAT WASN'T VERY NICE!" called a mysterious voice from what seemed to be very far away, but neither of our two heroes paid much attention to it.

"Pleeeeeaaaaaaase?" appealed Poland, trying to arrange his face into the cutest, most innocent expression he could muster. "Pretty please, Liet?" Lithuania stared at his friend for a moment, and then sighed.

"Fine," he said at last.

"Great!" shouted Poland, flinging his arms around Lithuania's neck. "You are, like, the best best friend ever, you know that? And I know you'll be a great squire too! You never let me down!"

Lithuania had a sneaking suspicion that he'd just been conned.

"So, exactly how were you planning to enter the Cup, anyway?" asked Lithuania as he and Poland walked back through the fields. "You don't have a sword, or a horse, or armour or anything."

"I have Konik," said Poland brightly.

"Konik is a pony. He doesn't count."

"Ponies are way better than horses!"

"You can't compete in a test of knightly prowess on a _pony_."

"Says you," retorted Poland. "Here, Konik!" he called across the field. A tubby brown pony trotted over to them, his head bobbing in time with his steps. Poland lifted up a hand to pat its neck fondly. "There's a good boy," he crooned.

"Your friend is right, there's no way this is going to cut it," said a voice from near Poland's shoulder. He yelped, and turned to see England standing beside him.

"When did you get here?" he demanded.

"Magic, remember?" replied his fairy godfather, wiggling his fingers before glancing at Lithuania, who appeared to be shell-shocked. "I presume Poland's already told you all about me?" Lithuania managed to nod. "Good," said England crisply. "In that case, I guess I should get down to the business of kitting you out for your journeys, since I presume you're going to be acting as his squire." He turned back to Konik. "First of all, we fix this up," he said, tapping Konik's side with the palm of his hand. The pony began to glow with an ominous white light before growing and changing shape; in seconds, a much larger and fitter-looking warhorse stood where Poland's beloved pet had been mere seconds ago.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PONY?" shrieked Poland, grabbing England by the front of his toga.

"Calm down, calm down," said England quickly. "He's still got the same mind, unfortunately, so he'll still be your dull-witted beast of burden in spirit at least. And if it's any consolation, he'll revert to his original form at midnight every night, and go back to being a warhorse at dawn." Poland glared for a moment, before letting go of England and taking a step backwards.

"That was, like, a really mean thing to do," he said sulkily as England brushed off the front of his toga.

"Yes, well, you'll thank me for it later," he replied. "Now, next, weapons, armour and supplies." Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled several heavy-looking saddle bags, a bow and quiver of arrows and, strangest of all, another fully saddled horse. "For the squire," he said, handing the horse's reins to Lithuania. "And the bow is for you, too. I thought it would fit your status as put-upon offsider very nicely."

"Uh… thank you?" replied Lithuania, a little dazed. England slung the saddle bags over the two horses, somehow pulling tack for Konik out of nowhere.

"Um, shouldn't I be getting a sword or something like that?" asked Poland as he watched England work.

"Wait," was the grouchy reply. After a moment, England had finished piling the gear onto the horses, and pulled out a large, very basic-looking sword from the same invisible point in the air he had taken the other objects from. "The giving of a sword is a very serious ceremony," he said with an air of majestic significance. "This blade will be your companion for many years to come. Train with it, fight with it, and whatever the hell else you do don't lose it. Understand?" Poland gulped, and nodded.

"I... I understand," he said solemnly. It was most definitely a significant moment; the kind of moment that people tend to remember for the rest of their lives; the end of Chapter 2, where the story just begins to grind into action and the heroes depart on their journey. It was therefore a moment of utter importance, where a monologue by the author explaining this fact would be utterly detrimental to the story and should not, under any circumstances… oh, crap.

Anyway… ahem. Anyway.

England offered the blade hilt-first, and Poland accepted it. The fairy godfather gave a cursory nod before vanishing, and Poland turned to his trusty squire and gave him a look, before both of them climbed up onto their noble steeds and rode away, to the next chapter and the beginning of their adventure.


	3. An Inauspicious Start

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Short chapter, just in time for Christmas Eve! Also… Don't judge me! I was feeling patriotic, OK? It doesn't happen often, and I promise that I have a good reason for putting my own country with the main characters.

**Disclaimer: I know, I know, I own nothing.**

**Chapter 3 – An Inauspicious Start**

"We're lost, aren't we?" sighed Lithuania, reining in his horse and looking around.

For three days, the two companions had been wandering around the Forest of West, trying valiantly to find the town where they had been told the next tournament in the Chivalry Cup would be located.

"Yeah, we're lost," agreed Poland. "But it's totally OK, though." Lithuania turned to him.

"How is this OK?" he asked sharply, the strain of the past few days travelling cutting into his voice.

"Well, we've been lost for three days," said Poland matter-of-factly. "In fairy tales and other stories like that, everything always happens on the third day. It could be good or bad, but either way we won't be wandering around here for much longer." Lithuania stared at his friend for a moment.

"You know… it is astounding how completely _not comforting_ that is," he said blankly, just as the crunch of footsteps on leaf litter reached them.

"Told you so," taunted Poland, sticking his tongue out at Lithuania.

"How does that even work?" exclaimed Lithuania just as a young man stepped out of the trees in front of them. He was dressed in rough travelling clothes, and held a large, heavy-looking staff in his right hand. His hair was brown, he had a bandage plastered over the bridge of his nose, and he was grinning broadly as he walked. Strangest of all, though, was the sleeping creature that clung to his back; furry, grey and unspeakably adorable, it just seemed out of place in the dark, threatening forest.

"G'day!" called the stranger, walking up to Poland and Lithuania. "You OK there? You're looking a bit lost."

"That's because we are," said Poland brightly. "Any chance you could show us the way out of this forest?"

"That depends," said the stranger thoughtfully. "Where are you headed?"

"North," said Poland.

"What a coincidence!" said the stranger happily, his smile growing even wider. "I'm going there too. I can show you the way if you like." The creature on its back stirred, and blearily opened its eyes.

"No thank you," said Lithuania quickly, gulping as he realised that the man's "pet" had sinister, inexplicably _glowing_ red eyes. "We- We're right. Really."

"What are you talking about, Liet?" asked Poland, puzzled. "Don't you want to get out of this forest too? I thought you, like, hated being lost."

"It's not any bother for me," said the stranger, equally perplexed. "Really, I don't mind helping you out."

"We'd love to travel with you," interjected Poland quickly. "I'm Poland, and this is my squire, Lithuania."

"Nice to meet you," answered the stranger. "I'm Australia, and this is Bruce, my drop bear." He nudged the abomination that was peeking sleepily over his shoulder. He frowned. "So how did you get to this far out anyway? Usually people avoid this part of the forest. It's not exactly safe."

"Like we said before, we're lost," explained Poland. "So, what's so bad about this place anyway?"

"Oh, just the usual," said Australia cheerfully. "Werewolves, outlaws, killer unicorns, enchanted clearings, territorial wood-elves, flying howler fish of doom…" As soon as he spoke the words, the forest seemed to come alive with a cacophony of blood-curdling shrieks. "Speaking of which," he said brightly. "You may want to keep a hand on your weapons."


	4. The Forest Of West

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Merry Christmas, everyone! I loved writing the first half of this chapter (howler fish are FUN), but by the end I'd well and truly run out of steam. Also, I put more effort into this chapter than the previous ones, and I'm worried it lost something along the way. Maybe it's because I actually had some idea of where I was trying to go with the chapter, rather than just producing brain vomit. I can see some sort of plotline developing, and that worries me.

**Disclaimer: All I own are the clothes on my back and the Light Yagami figurine on my bookcase…**

**Chapter 4 – The Forest of West**

"So… what exactly was that sound?" asked Lithuania as the noise died down.

"Flying howler fish of doom," said Australia cheerfully. "They'll probably be attacking us soon. They usually only start screaming once they've got their prey surrounded."

"_Surrounded_?"

"So are they, like, trying to eat us or something?" asked Poland. Australia nodded.

"Just how many of these howler fish are there anyway?" demanded Lithuania.

"They usually attack in groups of about ten or so," replied Australia, just as a bright orange blur hurtled out straight towards his face. "Oh, here's the first one!" he said, swinging his staff up and hitting the fish square on. There was a sickening cracking sound, and the attacking creature fell into the undergrowth as the drop bear, Bruce, jumped off Australia's back in pursuit.

"Liet, look out!" shouted Poland as something shrieked nearby. Lithuania ducked instinctively as another one of the carnivorous monsters flew over his head and landed in a tree nearby. He turned and caught a glimpse of it clinging to the bark and flailing. It had luminescent orange scales, no eyes, and a round mouth full of sickening rows of tiny, sharp teeth. Spiny, fin-like wings extended from its long, almost snake-like body. That was all he saw before the howler fish once again launched itself at him, and he threw himself out of his way, fumbling for the dagger at his belt as he rolled back to his feet. There was a thudding sound as something dropped out of a tree directly above the howler fish, and he glanced down. Right by his feet, Australia's pet stood over the now-dead body of the unfortunate fish, red eyes glowing demonically. Lithuania looked away. He didn't want to know what the drop bear would do with its kill. The screaming sound started up again, and he dodged yet another one of the fish. It flew into a tree, and as quickly as he could, Lithuania plunged his dagger into its side. Drops of blue blood splattered onto the ground with a terrifying hissing sound and began to eat through the undergrowth. Quickly, he pulled his dagger away from the fish and plunged it into the ground, as the fish threw itself into its dying spasms.

"That's all of them!" called Australia's voice from nearby. Lithuania turned to see his two companions standing in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by dead and dying howler fish.

"Liet, you should've seen it!" shouted Poland. "It was, like, totally awesome. Australia's pet took out, like, half of the fish by jumping on them, and I killed heaps of them by myself. I think I'm, like, a natural swordsman or something." Lithuania slumped forward, both relieved and a little annoyed to see that his friend had, apparently, been much better off than him in the fight.

"That's great, Poland," he muttered.

"Well, now that that's over, do you want to get going?" asked Australia cheerfully as Bruce returned to his resting place on his owner's back.

"Right!" agreed Poland. Lithuania nodded reluctantly. He was still a little apprehensive of their new companion, but he had to admit that he'd been helpful so far.

If Lithuania had been a little more observant, he would've noticed that their group now had three people; a perfect size for a little band of heroes on a journey. He might have realised, then, that Australia would probably be a permanent addition to the group. To be fair, not a lot of people think this way when it comes to their own lives, and Lithuania was not an exception to this rule. But still, it's worth noting that if he did think this way, he would've figured out that he would have to put up with the creepy drop bear for a long, long time.

The sun was just setting as our band of heroes reached the edge of the forest, tired, hungry and thoroughly sick of trees. Australia looked around as they emerged into a field.

"Yep, we're getting pretty close to North," he said cheerfully. "If we camp out here, we should get there by about noon tomorrow."

"That's weirdly convenient," remarked Lithuania. "Poland has to register for entry in the tournament at least a day before it begins, and since the tournament in North begins the day after tomorrow…"

"Poland has to what now?" asked our protagonist, glancing up from his fingernails. Lithuania sighed.

"You'd think that since you're the one actually competing in the Cup, you'd know more about it than me."

"Hey, I don't need to know stuff like that! That's what my squire is for, right? I just go and compete in tournaments and totally kick everyone's ass, and you do all the paperwork." Lithuania shook his head, concealing a tiny smile as he began to help Australia set up camp.

"We're going to need firewood," the other man told him as he approached. "You stay here, I'll go get some." He disappeared back into the forest before Lithuania had a chance to say anything, and as the last rays of sunlight hit the ground nearby, England materialised in front of Poland.

"Are you two out of that god-awful forest yet?" he demanded. "It must've been at least three days."

"You totally should've been there," Poland informed his fairy godfather. "We were, like, totally lost, but then this guy turned up and helped us find our way out and stuff. Turns out he's trying to get to North as well, so he's travelling with us now. We should get there, like, tomorrow I think."

"Is that so?" asked England, raising a bushy eyebrow. "Well, it's good to see that you're on track at last. That's all I needed to know, really. Cheerio." He vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared, just as Australia began trudging back to the camping spot, a load of firewood in his arms.

Now, this is probably where the chapter should end, since nothing interesting happened to our heroes for the rest of that night. But since I'm tired, I have a headache and it's Christmas Eve, I can't think of a good way to end this chapter. So instead, I'll just step out of character as the narrator to inform you that my writing skills have failed me, wish you a Merry Christmas, joyous Saturnalia or whichever equivalent you celebrate, and call it a night.

See you in the next chapter!


	5. North

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

****A/N – Wow, I've had less time to write than I wanted the past few days. Still, I did manage to get this chapter finished, which is good. Thanks for the reviews, everyone! =^_^= I really appreciate it! Have a long chapter as a thank-you present! No, really! I insist! You want to read this chapter, don't you, da~? ^J^  
Also, I hate Word 2007. Although the fact that there is now a shortcut for the thing that puts a line through your text is undeniably cool – AHEM. As I was trying to say before I so rudely interrupted myself, the disadvantages far outweigh the advantages, but my dad accidentally deleted Word 2003 while trying to install the email thingy (which, incidentally, didn't work), so I just have to suck it up and deal with it.  
But if the formatting turns out weird, at least you'll know why.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I also probably can't lay a claim to the fourth wall that I am so brutally demolishing either, although I would like to take a piece of it as a souvenir if I ever get bored of smashing it to smithereens.  
**

**Chapter 5: North**

"Somehow… I think we got the place wrong," muttered Lithuania as the three companions stared at the town. It seemed to be the strangest place in the world to hold a tournament; a tiny village, entirely surrounded by a decaying wooden wall and covered in a serene sheet of soft, misty rain.

"Well, this is a total waste of time," said Poland loudly.

"Hey! We heard that!" called a voice from the top of the wall. The travellers glanced up. Balanced precariously on top of the wall stood a girl with long, wavy hair and a fierce look in her green eyes. "What do you want, anyway?" she demanded.

"Excuse me, but is this the town of North?" called Lithuania. "We were told that a tournament for the Chivalry Cup would be taking place here soon." The girl glanced at them for a moment, before lightly jumping off the wall and somehow landing on her feet in front of them without suffering any serious injuries.

"Well, that defies credibility," said Poland.

"Yeah, but it's still cool," argued Australia.

"More tourists, huh?" mused the gravity-defying girl, taking a long, searching look at our heroes. "So, are any of you actually going to take part? Or are you all just spectators?"

"I'm, like, competing!" exclaimed Poland quickly. The girl snorted.

"You? Really? You don't look like the type." She smiled. "I guess that means you'll either be a complete joke or a very formidable opponent. It's nice to meet you, anyway. I'm Hungary."

"I'm Poland," said Poland, feeling vaguely insulted.

"I'm Lithuania," added Lithuania.

"I'm Australia," said… well, I think you can work that one out yourself. Hungary nodded.

"So, I'm guessing you want to get into the town, right?" she asked. They nodded. "Right," she said. "But just so you know, you should never let your guard down just because something doesn't look like much. You might be surprised." Having said that, Hungary raised a hand and pressed her palm to a slightly less mildew-encrusted spot on the wall. A thin line appeared in the wall and expanded as the creaking wooden gates opened, and the little group was assailed by a blast of pleasantly warm air.

From the outside, North appeared to be tiny, soggy and decrepit. But once the gate was open, everything changed. The drizzling rain melted away, revealing a sun-drenched town that seemed to expand outwards, swallowing up the wall and the meadow where it stood in a wave of brightly-coloured streets and buildings. All that remained of the old wall was the gate, standing alone in what now seemed to be the centre of the town.

"Welcome to North!" announced Hungary with a smirk.

"This is… Some sort of enchantment?" asked Lithuania. Hungary nodded.

"North has been under a curse for centuries. We're supposedly famous for it."

"Never heard of it," said Poland abruptly.

"Neither," added Lithuania and Australia. Hungary blinked.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"SOMEONE DOESN'T KNOW THE STORY OF NORTH?" shouted a bystander incredulously.

"THEY DON'T KNOW?" repeated someone else.

"But everyone knows the story of North!" exclaimed yet another villager, as a crowd began to form around Hungary and the group.

"This can't be true!"

"Well, if it is true, then we'll have to fix that!"

"Hungary was the one who found them. She'd better be the one to tell the story."

"Wait, what?" yelped Hungary, as the crowd began to murmur in agreement.

"Yes, tell the story to them, Hungary!"

"It's your duty as a citizen of North!"

"Ooh, I haven't heard the story for a while."

"Someone's telling the story!"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" yelled Hungary. Instantly, the entire street fell silent. She turned in a slow circle, glaring at everyone to make sure she'd made her point. "I'll tell the story to them," she said at last. "Everyone, get into your storytelling positions." Instantly, the entire crowd sat down on the ground. Most of them were cross-legged; a few people had leaned back into the laps of their friends, and one or two looked like they had already fallen asleep; apart from those individuals, everybody had fixed their eyes on Hungary with a look of absolute concentration.

"You have to get down, too," said Hungary as she sat down. Glancing at each other nervously, our heroes slowly sank to the ground. Hungary cleared her throat, and took another look around, making sure she had her audience's full attention. Finally, she began to speak.

"Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a lovely little town called North."

"WHOO! NORTH!" shouted an over-enthusiastic man at the back of the crowd. Hungary rolled her eyes and continued telling the story.

"Now, North was a beautiful place, full of brightly-coloured houses and happy, friendly people. The weather was never uncomfortably hot or cold, and the annual horse races drew tourists to the town from all over." At this, Hungary paused. "But not everyone was happy about this," she said at last. "In the centre of the village lived a very elderly witch. Now, in her younger days she had loved North as much as any other person. Of all the houses in town, hers was the brightest, and of all the people in the town she was the happiest and friendliest. When the weather was warm, she told everybody that summer was the best season of all; but when the weather was cold, she would laugh and say that winter was the most wonderful time of year. And none of the hundreds of enthusiasts that flocked to the village each year knew quite as much as her about horse racing, or loved the sport as much as she.

"But as the witch grew older, she found that the rainbow colours of the houses hurt her eyes, and the perpetual smiles of the villagers irritated her. The warm days were never warm enough; and even in winter, she could never seem to cool down. Strangest of all, she began to despise the races each year; the trainers and the jockeys all seemed silly and ignorant, and the spectators were just useless in her eyes." A few people in the crowd began to boo, and others muttered angrily amongst themselves. Hungary waited until the noise died down, and then continued. "The witch thought for a while, and eventually decided that all of this had to stop. So she devised a curse that would change the town completely, into a crowded, miserable slum where nobody would race horses or bet on them again.

"But the witch had spent too much time training horses and not enough time learning spells. At first, when she returned from the forest where the curse was cast, it seemed that her plot had worked. North was ten times smaller, surrounded by a sheet of rain and a dreary wooden wall. Gleefully, the witch ran into town, wondering what her magic had brought about there; but the moment she walked through the gate, her illusion evaporated and she saw that the town was unchanged. The witch gnashed her teeth and tore at her hair in frustration, but nothing she could do could change the way her illusion had happened, and the people of North were even happier now that their town was cursed so uniquely. So the witch packed her bags and left North in a rage." Hungary got to her feet and smiled. "And she has never been seen since." There was a moment of silence, before the crowd began to cheer as they got to their feet, going back to their daily business as if nothing had happened.

"I'm pretty sure I've heard that story before…" said Lithuania thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I'm like, positive I've heard this," agreed Poland.

"Now that you mention it, I know this story too," said Australia.

"WHAT?" shouted Hungary. "You mean I had to tell the whole story for _nothing_?"

"Well, it was fun to listen to, right?" answered Poland. The others nodded, and Hungary made an action that can only be described as a facepalm.

Well, I'm sure that's not the _only_ way a facepalm can be described, and it does seem kind of unprofessional to use the word, but since this is just a fanfic and I have yet to take any part of it seriously, I'll just use that word.

It doesn't really feel right, though. Just… you do know I can write better than this, right? It's not that I don't know any synonyms, I just like the word "facepalm" and I really think it fits here.  
Oh God. I'm using tsundere words. About a _fanfic_. What the- nobody's going to believe me now! This isn't good…

I'm just going to shut up and get on with the story. Yes. Um… Yeah, well, after that Hungary showed Poland the way to the Chivalry Cup Registration office, which was basically just some guy sitting in a tent, and Poland managed to get his name down to participate in the tournament. Meanwhile, Lithuania managed to get our companions booked into an inn for the night, and then he went to North's marketplace to buy supplies. Australia just disappeared somewhere. I know where he went, of course, seeing as I'm writing this, but neither of his companions had any idea what happened to him, so for the purpose of the plot he'd just disappeared. After Poland and Lithuania met up again at the inn that afternoon, England appeared and our two heroes told him what had happened that day. Satisfied that everything was going well, England vanished, leaving Lithuania to the mercy of Poland and a hair curler he'd found in their room's cupboard.

Yes, their world does have electricity. It's a very special medieval Alternate Universe. Now be quiet and stop asking awkward questions.

Australia sauntered back to the inn at midnight, looking very pleased with himself as he wandered up to the room. By the time he got there, Lithuania's hair had been contorted into a series of improbably sproingy ringlets, and he and Poland were fast asleep.

As Australia walked into the room and shut the door, Chapter 5 began to fade into the distance as Chapter 6 readied itself on the horizon (hopefully), with the promise of finally actually seeing Poland fight in a tournament.

Yes, that is a promise. Chapter 6 will have a tournament in it, which means that there will be some form of plot progression. Is that a good thing? I have no idea. I guess we'll just have to find out.  
Thus, the fanfic writer parted her computer for yet more semi-compulsory family bonding time, but thoughts of the next chapter filled her mind as she stalled and tried to actually get this chapter posted.


	6. Finally, a Tournament! sort of

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Apologies for the mistakes in the last chapter… They were numerous. That's kind of embarrassing… Also, thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! =^_^= Without them, I probably would have mumbled something along the lines of "OK, this is stupid" and given up after two or three chapters, but seeing that other people were enjoying this gave me an energy boost!

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Hetalia. But it's kind of customary to put up this disclaimer. Although, really, I could probably write anything here, couldn't I? As long as it says "Disclaimer" at the front…**

**Chapter 6 – Finally, a Tournament! …sort of…**

"Good morning everybody, and welcome to the first round of the third annual Chivalry Cup!" called a bright, magically amplified voice over the chattering of the crowd. "I am your host, Finland, and for the next three days we'll be here in North, holding the tournament in the hometown of last year's winner _and_ runner-up. Now, you might think that the Chivalry Cup is just about tournament battles and glory, but that is certainly not the case! Each of the four preliminary rounds has its own rules and its own side events in which anyone, including you, the audience, can participate freely, and I am thrilled to announce that this round's side event will be none other than the world-famous North Races!" The crowd began to cheer wildly, and Finland waited for the noise to die down. "As for the restrictions on the tournament itself? Well, we'll find that out very shortly, after a performance from none other than the Compass City Symphony Orchestra!" Instantly, an orchestra mysteriously assembled itself in the middle of the large stadium and began to play a rousing tune. In the shade of the contestant's waiting area, Poland sat on a bench, twisting his hands nervously. The door opened, and Lithuania walked in.

"Liet!" shouted Poland, jumping to his feet and running across the room to hug his friend.

"Wha- Are you OK?" asked Lithuania, concerned. Poland managed to nod, and whispered under his breath.

"But I'm, like, seriously freaking out here. Like, I was worried that I'd actually have to talk to these guys. I can't talk to strangers!"

"You were fine talking to Hungary yesterday…"

"I was out of character yesterday! It's the writer's fault!"

"Hey! This isn't easy, you know!" snapped a mysterious voice. "I happened to forget that minor detail, probably because the Nagoya schoolgirl accent and cross-dressing make you seem a lot more confident. Besides, you're the hero of this story. Man up." There was a pause.

"What… was that?" asked Lithuania.

"Beats me," replied Poland. "Let's just, like, forget about it completely and go back to our previous conversation!"

"OK!" agreed Lithuania. "So, anyway… Are you trying to tell me that you're scared, not of the prospect of being beaten up by a bunch of strangers in a few minutes, but by the fact that you might have to talk to them right now?"

"Yes. Exactly. But it's OK because you're here and you'll talk to me and not them so I totally won't get bored and then it'll be time for the tournament to start and I won't have to talk to anyone anyway! I'll just have to win!"

"Poland, you know I'm not even supposed to be here, right?" Lithuania informed him quietly. "I'm not a contestant. I can't stay in the waiting room, I have to get back to my seat. I just came to wish you luck."

"What? That's like, totally not fair!" protested Poland. "Why not?"

"It's just the rules." Outside, the orchestra music hit a thrilling crescendo. "Look, I have to go now, but I'll be cheering for you, OK? Good luck!" He smiled, and turned away.

"Hey, wait!" called Poland as Lithuania walked out of the door with a wave. "Wait-" All of a sudden, the music stopped, and Finland's voice could be heard over the crowd once more.

"Ladies and gentleman, please give a big hand for our brave contestants in this year's Chivalry Cup!" Instantly, the other contestants got up and filed towards the door. Poland joined the line, trying not to feel lonely as he was swept out into the stadium. "Now, you may have been wondering what today's condition of battle is. Well, now is the time to inform you, the audience, that all battles today will be conducted on horseback!" A gate at the opposite end of the stadium opened, and a flurry of assistants led horses out onto the field. Poland found himself face to face with a young, chirpy-looking assistant holding the reins to his own magically-altered Konik.

"Wait – how did you find -" he began to stutter.

"Just go with it, gov'ner!" said the chirpy assistant… well, chirpily. "Best to stay away from plot holes, you know." He bounced away along with the other assistants, leaving Poland to wonder if there was any particular reason for the boy to have a Cockney accent.

There wasn't.

"All right!" called Finland. "Now, it looks like our contestants are ready to begin, so we'll select our first two competitors! Don't forget, since each individual has to fight three rounds per tournament, a win or a loss in any one match is not a decisive outcome! …At least, not yet. However, only the top eight contestants with the highest number of wins will be able to compete in the finals, so every match counts!" He paused. "Match one… Poland versus Sealand." There was another pause as the audience began to murmur, and then to cheer with renewed vigour. "All other contestants off the field! Match one will commence immediately!" Poland glanced around a little nervously as the other contestants marched away. Slowly, he hoisted his foot into one of the stirrups and lifted himself onto Konik's back. By the time he had settled in place, there was only one other contestant left in the arena; a young boy on a pony, who was grinning broadly.

_WHAT?_ thought Poland incredulously. _How come he's allowed to compete with a pony and I'm not?_ After a moment, he added another complaint to his internal monologue; _Oh yeah… How am I supposed to fight a kid, anyway? It's kind of mean to just, like, attack someone who hasn't even hit puberty._

"The rules are simple," called Finland. "The battle will continue until one of the competitors forfeits or is deemed unable to battle by our panel of judges. Any fatalities will incur an instant disqualification upon the part of the competitor who caused them, so please guys, try not to kill each other. This isn't what the Chivalry Cup is about." The roaring of the crowd had reached fever pitch. "The match will begin in three… two… one… ZERO!"

However, for the purpose of dramatic effect, the battle will actually take place in Chapter 7. As a substitute for a proper trollface, please enjoy this emoticon :D


	7. Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

**Disclaimer: BUENO TOMATO BUENO TOMATO BUENO BUENO OOH – I don't own Hetalia.**

**Chapter 7 – Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!**

_SPLAT._

Poland doubled over as something small and solid slammed into his stomach.

"Haha! Too slow!" jeered a high, bubbly voice from the other side of the arena. Poland managed to look up in time to see his opponent launching a second missile from the sling in his hands. Yelping, he managed to kick Konik into action, trotting to the side as the stone whizzed past him.

"Not good," he murmured to himself, as a third projectile slammed into the side of his head.

_SPLAT._

_Wait a minute,_ thought Poland. _What kind of rock goes "splat"? And what's trickling down the side of my face, anyway?_ He glanced down at his stomach, where the first missile had hit him. The front of his shirt had been stained bright red.

_Blood…? No. This is-_ He pulled a lock of hair across his face. It was covered in green paint.

"THAT IS LIKE, TOTALLY OUT OF LINE, YOU LITTLE BRAAAAAAAT!" he screeched, kicking Konik into a gallop and rushing straight towards Sealand. Unconcerned, the boy fired another paintball, hitting Poland in the shoulder. He reached for his sword, and then hesitated. Not only would it be immoral to fight the little twerp with a sword, but he had a feeling that a regular blade wouldn't work against someone that annoying. There was only one thing left to do.

"It's time for my secret weapon, I guess," he muttered to himself, reaching into the pocket of his shirt.

"Wha- what are you doing? What is that?" called Sealand shrilly. Poland grinned a little evilly, flipping open the lid of his secret weapon.

"It's a mobile phone," he said casually. "And you're totally busted. I'm calling your parents."

"As if!" shouted Sealand. "Those don't even exist in this universe!"

"Wanna bet? Oh look, it's ringing."

"OK, OK, I forfeit!" yelled Sealand. "I forfeit, I forfeit, just don't tell my big brother I'm participating in the tournament!"

"That's more like it," said Poland coolly, snapping the phone shut. There was a pause.

"Sealand has forfeited the match, and I'm really not sure how to react to this entire situation," stuttered Finland at last. Muffled conversation could be heard from the commentator's box. After a long while, there was an awkward reply; "Um… uh… This match is a default win for Poland, but I would like to see both competitors outside the commentator's box right now. I have to speak to you about this." There was a noise that seemed reminiscent of a throat being cleared. "Uh… next up! Switzerland vs. Korea, and I'll be letting my fellow judge Norway take over the commentating for a moment!"

"I… I really don't know what to say," said Finland a little exasperatedly, looking at Sealand and Poland with what was, given the circumstances, probably disappointment. "Sealand, the rules state that there are no restrictions on age for competitors in the Chivalry Cup, but I strongly… _strongly_ urge you to put this off for a few more years. You can't be any more than twelve. That's really too young for this kind of tournament. Do your parents know what you're doing?"

"I don't have any parents. My jerk brother looks after me."

"Ah." Finland paused. "Well… does he know what you're doing?"

"No."

"Then do you think it's really a good idea to go behind his back like this?"

"DEFINITELY." Finland shook his head.

"I guess this isn't up to me, but still… Please reconsider this. Anyway, you're not the only person I needed to speak to. Poland, you were awarded victory in your battle with Sealand because you did, technically, render him incapable of battling, but your method was verging on blackmail, which is strictly prohibited in this competition." Finland's normally-cheerful face turned stony cold as he held out his hand. "I'll be confiscating that mobile phone, I'm afraid. Please try to use more legitimate weapons in future." Poland passed over the phone with only the tiniest hint of regret. Although the gadget had been fascinating, losing it was a reasonable price to pay for staying in the competition. "Now, I have to go back to commentating, so I'll see you two in your next rounds." Finland turned around and walked back into the commentator's box, leaving Sealand to make obnoxious faces at Poland the moment all adult supervision was gone.

"Our next match will be Poland versus Denmark!" called Finland in his usual bubbly voice just as our hero returned to the waiting room.

"Now?" asked Poland aloud, to nobody in particular, before turning around and walking out the door. As the chirpy assistant led Konik back to Poland, a hush fell over the crowd.

Poland's opponent rode into the arena, his improbably spiky hair ruffled slightly by the dramatic breeze that suddenly swept through the arena, pulling at his long, red-and-brown coat as his fiery-looking warhorse fidgeted beneath him. Strangely enough, the tiny hat on top of his head was unaffected by the breeze.

But the thing that really got to Poland, the thing that instantly informed the audience that this man was indisputably a badass, had nothing to do with mysterious winds or coats or hats. No, the most terrifyingly cool thing about the newcomer was the enormous axe slung casually over his shoulder like a very sharp, dangerous sack of feathers.

Well, that might have been a bad example, but you get the picture.

"The match will in three…"

_I really hope that axe is just for show,_ thought Poland, staring at his opponent.

"Two…"

_It's got to be illegal to have a weapon like that._

"One…"

_Really nice hat though. If I survive this, I'll have to ask him where he got it._

"Zero." With a terrifyingly mischievous smirk, Denmark pulled the axe away from his shoulder and spurred his horse into action, charging straight at Poland.

"WHAT THE HELL?" yelled Poland, too terrified to be shy at the present moment. "THERE HAS TO BE A RULE AGAINST THAT!" He narrowly ducked under the axe's swing, drawing his sword as he did so. "There is a rule against this, isn't there?" he repeated desperately as he blocked yet another blow.

"Nope," said Denmark wickedly, winking at Poland before continuing his rampage. Blows were exchanged, and Poland was pushed back towards the edge of the arena as the crowd began to roar with excitement.

"Seriously, you're not meant to kill people here!" he squeaked, jerking Konik's reins back and ducking around the axe again as the ex-pony's rump collided with the barrier that separated the contestants from the crowd.

"You're not going to die," said Denmark, rolling his eyes as he raised the axe one more time. Poland looked around desperately for a way out, strands of his paint-encrusted hair whipping into his eyes as-

_HAIR._

With a strangled, inarticulate yell, Poland launched himself forward, dragging his hands through Denmark's spiky hair and _pulling._ Yelping in pain, Denmark dropped his axe, and it impaled itself in the nearby ground with a sickening thump. With some difficulty, Poland drew his sword up to Denmark's neck and held it there. Slowly, his opponent raised his hands with a broad grin.

"Looks like I've been bested," he said, as the voice of the commentator crackled above them.

"That makes a second win for Poland." After a moment of shocked silence, Poland sheathed his sword and punched the air.

"OH YEAH!" he shouted. "I won! I won! I- OW!" he gasped as Konik stumbled into the barrier, throwing him onto the ground. "Yeah, that hurt," he muttered into the dust.

"So basically I've figured out that I'm, like, invincible," said Poland earnestly as he inspected his nails. After the match a more-than-slightly-concerned Lithuania had rushed down to the competitors' waiting room, only to see his friend in sky-high spirits and more than ready for his final battle. "I mean, if I can win against someone as badass as that Denmark guy, then how hard can the rest of it be?"

"Have you ever heard the expression 'tempting fate?'" Lithuania asked nervously.

"Huh?" replied Poland. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll be fine."

"Poland, I really don't think you should be saying things like that. I can hear evil laughter in the background." He paused. Sure enough, a low, malicious chuckle was rippling through the room beneath the sounds of chatter and the match raging outside. Poland dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Oh, that's probably just the fanfic writer. Ignore it."

"Yes," said Lithuania patiently. "The fanfic writer who _happens_ to control our lives in this universe, and is most probably a bored teenager with absolutely no qualms about sending you into a potentially traumatic situation. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"You worry too much, Liet," yawned Poland, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. "Chill out." The door opened, and Hungary walked into the waiting room.

"Poland? Your third match is up now," she said, indicating the protagonist as he got to his feet.

"Who- who is it?" asked Lithuania apprehensively. The girl grinned wickedly.

"Me," she replied.

Something in the tone of her voice told Liet that this was not going to end well.

A/N - HA! Tricked you, didn't I? You thought there wasn't going to BE a note from me, didn't you? Well, there is! I like writing these notes, so you won't get rid of me that easily, I'm afraid :D

*ahem* Anyway, Denmark is in this because I think he is incredibly badass and also I needed a spare character and I have a LOT of characters that are going to become relevant later on stored in the back of my mind. I don't really know much about any of the Nordics, though, in Hetalia or real life (despite being a fan of Scandinavia And The World), so I'm sorry if I didn't convey his character very well.

Also, thank you so much for the faves/alerts/reviews. Especially the reviews. They warm my heart ^_^

Speaking of reviews – Sorry, Xakia, you didn't get your wish. Maybe next time. Maybe not. I'm not sure I want Poland crushing twelve-year-olds, it may make his position in the story as a hero a little less credible. But I did seriously consider it .

This was a long chapter, and it took forever for me to get it up. Sorry about that. I'll try to be better about writing this consistently from now on.


	8. ffnet Can't Handre This Chapter's Title

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

**Disclaimer: Hacking flowers to pieces is surprisingly fun… I should garden more often. I don't own Hetalia.**

A/N – Moving the Author's Note back to the start of the chapter, because I like it better this way. I can write my self-centred drivel while you're still waiting hopefully for the real chapter to start :D Hopefully, I'll be updating once a week from now on… That's the goal I'm setting for myself.

**Chapter 8 – Because Sometimes, You Really Should Listen To Your Squire**

At one end of the arena, Hungary sat astride a swift-looking chestnut horse, her eyes blazing as the crowd roared her name and called for the blood of her opponent.

At the other end of the spectrum, Poland clung to Konik and tried to muster some sort of confidence. The moment Hungary had announced that she would be his next opponent, he had seen a change come over the girl; her cheerful, friendly aura had dissipated, giving way to a stronger and much more intimidating demeanour.

That had kind of killed his buzz.

"Poland versus Hungary," called Finland over the crowd's frenzy. "The match will begin in three… Two… One… Zero."

Poland had enough time to draw his sword as Hungary galloped towards him, a frying pan building terrifying momentum in her hand. He had enough time to realise the futility of fighting against the force of nature his opponent had become. He had enough time to register the incoming pain as he saw the frying pan being brought down upon his head.

But the moment those trivial concepts began to be processed by his brain, the cold steel hit his skull and all conscious thought was extinguished.

There was a low humming sound in the background as Poland came to with a groan. "What… happened?" he said blearily, eyes flickering open to the sight of a warm, sunny room.

"You're awake!" called Lithuania's relieved voice from some point above his right elbow.

"And to answer your question, I completely demolished you," joined a cheerful voice from Poland's other side. He tilted his head slightly, and Hungary's face swung into view. He stared in groggy silence for a moment, before risking further injury to his head by frowning slightly.

"I remember now! _You smashed a frying pan into my head_!" he said, mustering as much fury as he could without moving his jaw too much.

"I'm sorry," said Hungary a little apologetically. "I didn't think your skull would be that fragile."

"Did you think at all?" snapped Poland. Lithuania cleared his throat.

"Well, on the plus side the doctor says your injuries are temporary and will probably be healed and forgotten by the end of this chapter!" he said weakly. "So… there's no reason to glare at Hungary like you're going to declare some sort of stupid rivalry against her, right…?"

"Ooh, don't give me ideas," said a mysterious and suspiciously gleeful voice. Lithuania glanced around.

"Is it just me, or has that mysterious voice been stalking us for a while now?" he said. There was a sound akin to someone choking.

"I- I'm not a stalker! I'm a fanfic writer! I'm following you because I have to keep control of the plot, and it's easier to manipulate the fabric of reality itself when I can keep an eye on the characters for whom I am weaving this tapestry of fate! It's a noble calling!" There was a moment of silence.

"She's totally a stalker," Poland declared.

"THIS SCENE IS OVER!" snapped the voice. Instantly, the room dissolved, and Poland and Lithuania found themselves standing in the middle of a crowded street. Hungary had disappeared along with the scenery, and our two heroes were left wondering where the other member of their little group had gotten to.

"Didn't we, like, have that other guy with us earlier?" asked Poland after a while.

"You mean Australia?"

"Yeah. Him." There was silence for a moment.

"Come to think of it, he's been missing for a couple of chapters," said Lithuania thoughtfully. "If this story is as predictable as I think it is, that means he'll probably turn up right about now."

"Inoanoacexonc; gxino ge," said a muffled voice from far away.

"Hi, stalker voice!" said Poland brightly, as, sure enough, Australia's tall figure threaded his way through the crows towards them, leading a powerful-looking brown horse.

"Where did you get that horse?" asked Lithuania when the third member of their group finally reached them.

"Won it," said Australia cheerfully. "I got lucky betting on the races."

"Races?" asked Poland.

"Yeah, the horse races that ended just now," Australia replied, before realising his mistake. "Oh, right. You were unconscious, weren't you?" There was a pause.

"Yes. Yes I was," said Poland flatly, before taking note of something else Australia had said. "Wait… you earned enough money betting on the races to buy your own _horse_?"

"Well, I was pretty confident," he said breezily.

"You still must have put, like, a _lot _of money on that horse!"

"I go for high stakes."

"You sound like you have a gambling problem or something!"

"It's not a problem unless you lose, which I don't." Australia blinked. "Hey, don't look at me like that, you two. I won, so what's the problem?"

"Nothing at all," replied Poland. "I think you've just been officially established as a quirky sidekick. Welcome to the team."

And with those words, our three heroes sauntered off into the sunset, before turning the corner and making their way back to the inn (it was getting too late in the day to start travelling again.) Tomorrow, they would begin their journey to the next tournament venue, a path that will probably be filled with a series of amusing obstacles as soon as I can think some up. But for now, it was time for a night of leisure, food and, knowing our protagonist, nail polish.

Heheh. Nail Polish.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of gunshots could be heard as an idiotic fanfic writer faced karmic retribution for an incredibly horrible and unoriginal pun…


	9. The Filler Hills

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

**Disclaimer: The fourth wall is a lie spread by those who would have my benevolent totalitarian regime as the wise and all-powerful ruler of the galaxy brought to its knees. You can fight back against the conspiracy by reviewing, favouriting, or recommending this fic to other people :D**

***cough* Oh, yeah… something about Hetalia belonging to someone else. Puny upstart, questioning my supremacy… He will be crushed as soon as his insignificant antics cease to amuse me. **

A/N – And now, I welcome you to the wonderful world of filler! :D Why Belgium and Netherlands, do you ask? Well… because I don't really know their characters that well, I didn't have another role for them, and because they appeared in a new episode while I was trying to figure out what to do with this chapter. Sorry this took so long. I had other commitments and a little bit of writers' block.

**Chapter 9 – The Filler Hills**

"So where are we headed now?" asked Australia as the three companions headed out of North the next morning, ambling along a beat-up path next to a river. There was a moment of silence.

"Crap," said Poland.

"Hang on," replied Lithuania wearily. "Designated sane guy's going to get a map out now." He leaned over and reached into one of his saddlebags, pulling out a plastic folder and a folded-up map as he slowed to a meditative halt. "The official Chivalry Cup participant's guide says that the next round of the tournament will be held in South," he said, leafing through the folder before opening the map and peering at it. "And according to this..." He held the map up to the others. "We are here," he said, stabbing a dot labelled "North" with his index finger. "South is all the way over _here_, he continued, pointing to a point further down the map. Poland tilted his head, staring quizzically at the area between the two towns.

"Does that say… the 'Filler Hills?'" he asked. Lithuania turned the map back around to take a look.

"Yes… once we cross the Resolution, we should be in the Filler Hills," he said.

"The what?"

"The River Resolution. It's just up ahead," Lithuania replied, folding the map up and returning it to his bag. He held the folder out to Poland. "Seeing as you're the one actually competing in the Cup, maybe you should keep this," he suggested. Poland shook his head.

"The writer hates me," he said, obviously having chosen this exact moment to start behaving like an overgrown baby. "I'd just end up losing it, probably."

Yet another potential side plot sailed blissfully down the drain as Lithuania put the folder back in his bag and began to move again. After a few minutes, our heroes, who by this point were becoming a little too smart for their own good, reached the river. Grey water swirled beneath a weathered wooden bridge. Beyond the river there was no visible road; instead, everything meshed together into the landscape, dark trees creating picturesque splotches on the honey-coloured hills. Little clumps of cattle were sprinkled across the scene, perfecting the setting in its rustic beauty.

"I've been here before," reflected Australia as the group carefully led their horses over the bridge. "Lived in these hills with some friends for a while. Come to think of it, they're probably still here."

"Do you think we'll see them or something?" asked Poland as the three companions stepped together onto the grass at the end of the bridge. Australia shrugged.

"Doubt it." He began to take another step forward, and the grass shifted beneath the feet of our heroes as they began to fall.

"Why would anyone bother to build a trap this big?" asked Lithuania, idly kicking the edge of the hole that the trio were now stuck in. Their horses, fortunately, had not fallen into the hole with them, and were now grazing near the river quite happily.

"Maybe they were trying to catch bears or something?" suggested Poland.

"There aren't any bears in the Filler Hills, though," argued Australia. "There are giant carnivorous earthworms, hill ghosts, wild golems, rabid fangirls, bat hares and a lot of other things that you should probably be scared of, but no bears."

There was a pause.

"Now you tell us," muttered Poland.

"So, what do you think this trap was set for, then?" asked Lithuania.

"Us," replied Australia cheerily. There was a stunned silence.

"You're kidding… right?" murmured Poland.

"Oh, it's probably just a group of bandits," said Australia airily. "They'll let us out once they've stolen our possessions. They tend to be fairly reasonable people. We only need to be worried if something else finds us before they do." He paused. "Although… considering how this day has been going so far… That's pretty much guaranteed to happen."

"Hello down there!" called a cheerful voice. A female face framed by blonde hair appeared at the edge of the pit trap.

"Belgium?" responded Australia in amazement. The girl smiled.

"Hey, brother, we got a wild one!" A head of oddly spiky hair appeared next to Belgium's.

"Hi," he said shortly, before moving away again.

"Oh, fine then, Netherlands!" called Australia jokingly. "Be like that!" The end of a rope landed in the hole.

"We'll let you off with your stuff this time, since you're an old friend," grinned Belgium.

"_FRIEND?_" repeated Poland incredulously.

"Didn't I tell you before that I knew people in these hills?" replied Australia as he took the end of the rope and climbed out, with a nod of thanks to Belgium.

"You didn't tell us that your friends were bandits," Lithuania pointed out, folding his arms as Belgium tossed the end of the rope back down.

"Yeah, maybe I should've mentioned that," Australia admitted.

"Does this, like, make you a bandit or something too?" asked Poland as he climbed out of the hole.

"It might. Anything wrong with that?"

"Well, theft _is_ generally frowned upon," Lithuania pointed out as he, too, climbed up. "And seeing as the whole nature of this quest so far has had a fairly lawful tendency, your being a bandit kind of throws the balance out a little."

"If we lived in a realistic universe, you'd be right," said Australia. "But here, in the wonderful kingdom of Atlas, bandits hardly ever do anything! Here, let me show you!"

"What."

That, Poland decided, was the only reasonable response to the scene being played out in front of his eyes. When Belgium and Netherlands had led the group back to the bandits' camp, they had been received with enthusiastic cheers and tankards of an alcoholic but otherwise-unidentifiable substance.

A few hours later, the situation had spiralled completely out of hand. Most of the outlaws (and Australia) were dancing a drunken conga around what appeared to be a sack of loot. In fact, apart from Poland and Lithuania, who were too shocked to do anything but sit completely still, the only reasonably sane-looking person left was Netherlands.

This was especially odd considering that he was surrounded by a veil of bright green strawberry-scented smoke from the pipe in his mouth.

The strangest, most terrifying thing had not been the drunkenness, though. Not by a long shot. No, the thing that had left our heroes shell-shocked was the large, rectangular device Belgium had pulled out of nowhere.

"It's a laptop!" she said brightly, before accidentally finding a page called something like "Hetalia kink memes."

After a few minutes browsing that page, everybody was willing to get as drunk as possible in a seemingly hopeless effort to forget what they had seen. The unlikelihood of having such a good internet connection in an almost-deserted region of a fantasy setting, perhaps unsurprisingly, did not occur to any of them. And so, our heroes weathered away the rest of the day in a state of increasing intoxication, blissfully unaware of the many filler chapters still to come…


	10. Rainbows, Ponies and FleshEating Bats

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

**Disclaimer: I'm too tired to even pretend I own Hetalia right now…**

A/N – This chapter consists mostly of lame jokes about filler and a reference to one of my favourite moments in the English dub. Also, tenth chapter! That means double digits!

Oh, yeah. Now on to the important bit… I changed my username from "Ame of the Water Tribe" to "Kiri Ame" since that (or some variation thereof) is my username practically everywhere else. Sorry if that causes any inconvenience to anyone, but it's just easier this way ^_^

**Chapter 10 – Rainbows, Ponies, and Flesh-Eating Bats**

Poland groaned and opened his eyes, feeling his head throb as he did so. "What on earth _happened_?" he asked as he sat up, staring at the still-sleeping bodies littered around the campsite.

"We all got drunk," Lithuania informed him from a spot near the ashes of the previous night's bonfire.

"And…?" Poland prompted.

"Can't tell you any more than that," replied his friend, as Australia stirred nearby, his "pet" blinking its demonic red eyes open just as his master woke.

"So, anyone else remember what happened?" he asked cheerily.

"Nope," groaned Poland and Lithuania in surprisingly tuneful unison.

"Neither," replied Australia, glancing around at the sleeping outlaws. "Well, there's no point in wasting time on goodbyes. We should probably leave before they wake up."

"Why…?" answered Lithuania slowly.

"They might not remember that they promised not to steal from you if they're too hung-over," answered their companion as he led the horses over. "Besides, staying with my friends was only worth one filler chapter. We have to have other sub-plots and side-trips and thingamabobs." Poland and Lithuania glanced at each other, and then shrugged.

"Makes total sense to me," said Poland.

"Let's go, then," added Lithuania.

And, since I'm listening to Simon and Garfunkel at the moment and I can't really concentrate on finding a less abrupt way of saying this… They left.

"Is it just me, or have we been, like, getting _nowhere_ today?" asked Poland suspiciously later that afternoon as the group began to climb yet another hill.

"It always takes a while to get out of the Filler Hills," Australia explained. "There's no real way of telling where you are in here, either, so we could be wandering around for quite a while." Poland groaned.

"Are you sure there wasn't any way of, like, getting around these hills or anything?"

"As far as I can tell from the map, there isn't," answered Lithuania apologetically. "The Filler Hills seem to be pretty much unavoidable."

"Tell you what," suggested Australia. "It's nearly sunset anyway, so I'll go to the top of this hill and scout out a place for us to camp. Then we'll try to figure out where we are and which way we should go to get to South fastest." The other two nodded.

"Sounds like a plan," said Lithuania.

"Bye Australia!" added Poland, waving brightly. The slightly shady member of the trio turned and began to ride up the side of the hill as the other two plodded along.

"So, have you made any progress?" asked England, suddenly materialising beside the group and drifting along, suspended by his large, fluffy white wings.

"Our other companion is scouting out a campsite now," said Poland. "We're not exactly sure where we are at the moment, though." England glanced around.

"It looks like you're in the Filler Hills," he said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "That… That's not ideal, but I guess it was inevitable."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take us to get out of here?" asked Lithuania worriedly. England shook his head.

"It's impossible to tell how long you'll be stuck here for, sorry. It could be anything from a couple of days to several months."

"Why do I feel that the very existence of the Filler Hills is some sort of pun going way over our heads?" asked Lithuania suddenly.

"Well, now that you mention it, I feel that way too…" agreed Poland, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully.

"You definitely have a point there," said England, before pausing. "Speaking of things going over my head, I don't believe I've actually met your companion. What was his name again?" Poland opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment there was a beeping sound and England pulled a mobile phone out of the top of his toga, staring at it a little confusedly for a moment before flipping it open and holding it to his ear. "Hello?" There were muffled sounds from the other end of the line as England's face grew steadily stormier. "He did _what_? Is he out of his mind? Hold on a second." He gave his charges an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I have some things to attend to back home," he said exasperatedly before vanishing in a cloud of green sparkles. A moment later, Australia returned to the group, glancing over his shoulder apprehensively.

"Um… We may have to leave now," he said in a strained voice. Poland glanced sharply at him.

"Why…?"

"There are archer bats nearby," Australia said, as if that explained everything. Poland and Lithuania stared at him as if he had mushrooms growing from his head.

"There are what?" asked Poland blankly.

"Archer bats," repeated Australia. "You know… those little bats that chew up bits of wood and fly out in swarms spitting the wood at their prey to kill them and-"

"I'm sorry, but you had me at _flesh-eating bats_," interrupted Poland. There was a moment of horrified silence.

"I think we should get away from here," said Lithuania. The other two nodded, and, with terrified shrieks of "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!" our heroes continued their journey through the Filler Hills.

…_I bet you thought that was the end of the chapter, didn't you? Well, it wasn't. This chapter has extra words in it! Isn't that exciting?_

…ISN'T IT?

…_Fine. Be that way._

"_Uh, it's not like they can actually respond to you in the middle of a chapter," Conscience reminds me gently. My eyes narrow._

"_Conscience, what are you doing here? This is my special time with Imagination!" Over in the corner of my brain, something crashes to the ground as Imagination swoops by, cackling evilly._

"_I understand," sighs Conscience. "She's a bad influence, though, you know. Anyway, we'd better get back to telling the story. The self-insert is probably going to get annoying really soon, even if you are only doing it for cheap laughs."_

…_Yeah, she has a point. With an almighty self-sacrificing sigh, I return to my weighty task of writing crack fanfiction._

"How can we keep up this galloping anyway?" called Poland as our heroes sped through the hills in the deep of the night. "You'd think the horses would be just a bit tired by now!"

"I think they're running on plot power," answered Australia. "It works really well in settings like this."

"Is it just me, or is that squeaking noise getting louder?" shouted Lithuania.

"I bet it's the bats," said Poland. Australia nodded.

"The squeaking means that they've identified a target," he informed them.

There wasn't much to say after that.

"GAAH!" Poland shouted inarticulately as a splinter of horrifically sharp wood flew past his shoulder. "WHY ARE THEY ONLY SHOOTING AT ME?"

"They must have chosen you as their target," replied Australia, reaching up to his back and tossing Bruce into Poland's lap. "Here! He'll intercept some of the splinters for you, but we have to keep moving. Since they're close enough to start spitting, they're probably about to try and surround you."

THIS IS BECAUSE I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER, ISN'T IT?" wailed Poland. "BEING THE PROTAGONIST TOTALLY SUCKS!" The squeaking reached fever pitch as the archer bats barrelled straight into Australia and Lithuania, pushing them to the side as they formed a ring around Poland. For a moment there was a dreadful silence as all the bats breathed in and aimed.

And then they spat.

This would've meant almost certain death for Poland had his pony-turned-warhorse, Konik, not chosen that exact moment to begin glowing a bright pink colour and suddenly shrink. The splinters whizzed straight over Poland's head and towards the stunned bats, who began dropping like flies, victims of their own hunting method.

But Konik wasn't done yet. Still glowing, he slowed to a near-halt and began tossing his head around. Ribbons of rainbow light flew from his mane, and the archer bats began to spontaneously combust. Within moments, there was nothing left but the three shell-shocked companions.

"Oh, _I_ remember now," said Poland brightly. "The spell that makes Konik a warhorse wears off every night at midnight!" He shrugged. "Heh, I guess that activates some sort of superpower mode in him, too." There was a pause.

"You know what?" said Lithuania. "I vote we just make camp and try to pretend none of this ever happened."

"Agreed," said Australia thickly.

"What? But that was, like, the best thing I've ever seen! Seriously!" protested Poland.

"Rainbow lights that make things explode are kind of weird even by this story's standards," replied Lithuania. "I'm sorry, but I really think it's best that we ignore this issue."

"That's just, like, the Filler Hills getting to you!" argued Poland desperately. "You have to fight it! We can't just pretend this never happened, or nothing we do here will be at all relevant!"

"What are we doing up at midnight?" asked Australia, yawning. "Shouldn't we have made camp by now?"

"I was just wondering that myself…" said Lithuania dazedly. "Something wrong, Poland?" Poland shook his head, trying to remember what he'd been thinking about a moment ago.

"I… thought I was annoyed about something, but I'm not sure what it was…" he frowned, before shrugging. "Oh well. If it's important, I'll remember it in the morning, right?"

"Right," replied his companions.

And so, yet another chapter of filler ended with our heroes forgetting everything they had learnt in the past four pages. Only time will tell when the plot will start continuing again properly…


	11. The Order Of Bearded Old Guys

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Sorry I haven't updated for a while… School has been evil to me (and at the time of writing this author's note, for some reason I can't actually edit my stories, so I'm not sure when I'll actually be able to get this chapter up... It's been complete for two days!). But to make up for it I have Monty Python and (extremely vague) Avatar: The last Airbender references! You all like those, right?

…Right?

Warning: OC's. They'll probably be recurring characters, but they're only there to further the semblance of a plot I am trying to sculpt. They wouldn't really have worked as Hetalia characters, so I just made some people up at random.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I can't even draw. Well, I can draw eyes… sort of… but that's it. And nobody wants to read a manga that is entirely composed of eyes and text, right? So it's probably a good thing that I don't own Hetalia. If I did, it never would have kicked off.**

**Chapter 11: The Order of Old Bearded Guys**

"Are we there yet?" asked Poland for what was probably the hundredth time.

"Obviously not," Lithuania pointed out. There was a pause.

"What about now?"

"Nope."

"Now?"

"Nope."

"Now?"

"Oh for Arceus' sake, I've had _enough_ of filler already!" shouted a mysterious voice from an undisclosed location. "It contributes nothing to the plot, it's a pain in the ass to write and I haven't been getting as many reviews lately because of it! I want my readers to love me again!"

"You're responsible for all this stupid filler?" replied Australia, his face growing stormy as Bruce's eyes began to glow. The voice laughed nervously.

"Eheh… Um… Uh… Well, you see, since I'm such a benevolent writer, I'm going to help you guys get out of these hills! Isn't that nice of me? Take the right-hand path past that next hill, cross the river and you'll be in South. Please don't hurt me." With that, the voice hastily vanished, inasmuch as a disembodied voice can actually _be_ somewhere in the first place. The companions glanced at each other.

"Do you think we should, like, trust her?" asked Poland.

"She _has_ screwed with our lives for petty entertainment on more than one occasion," replied Lithuania thoughtfully. "But by the sounds of it, she hates filler as much as we do. I think she's genuinely trying to help for once, if only to move the plot forward."

"The question is, do _we_ want the plot to move forward?" mused Australia. "We have no idea what's going to happen next. There could be a giant death ray hidden in the middle of the next tournament's arena that can only be triggered by the sound of a Valley Girl accent or something."

"That is, like, _so_ totally ridiculous," said Poland, rolling his eyes and flipping his hair fabulously.

"Guuuuys, don't give her ideas," hissed Lithuania under his breath as they turned right.

* * *

A lazy river wound across the landscape in front of them, partially obscured by a number of droopy willows that stood on the green bank, dipping their leafy curtains into the smoothly flowing water. In the distance beyond the river, it was just possible to see a winding road leading off into the distance.

"We're nearly there!" shouted Poland, tumbling off Konik's back and rushing over to the water. The others followed at a more leisurely pace.

"_Finally_," said Australia emphatically, glancing longingly across the river.

"The bridge is a short ways upstream," said Lithuania, consulting the map. "We should get there pretty soon." He returned the map to his saddlebag and grinned. "This is kind of incredible, but it looks like we're actually going to reach South early. If nothing else goes wrong, we'll be there by tomorrow morning. The next round isn't for another week."

"You were the one who told us not to give our stalker ideas!" hissed Poland. "Shut up about whatever else might go wrong!"

There was an ominous silence.

"Crap," said all three companions in unison, before hurrying along the riverbank.

It was a beautiful bridge, a lovely arch made of smooth grey stone and tufts of soft moss. Trees lined the banks on either side, and even the water flowing underneath seemed somehow pristine, purer than the water elsewhere. Just hearing the rush of the river, seeing the bridge that marked the end of their ordeal in the Filler Hills was enough to spur our heroes on.

Naturally, things would not be that easy.

"HALT!" called a thundering voice, as a wizened, bearded man dressed in blue robes rose from the river water and advanced upon the group. "THOSE WHO PASS ACROSS THIS BRIDGE MUST ANSWER ME THESE QUESTIONS THREE!" The members of the group glanced at each other.

"Three questions each, or shared between all of us?" asked Poland. The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"I wasn't counting on coming across a whole _group_ of travellers, so I only actually have three questions prepared," he admitted. "So yes. One question each. You can go first if you like, boy."

"Uh… Sure, whatever."

"Atta boy. All right… Let me see… Question one. Aha! That's it! WHAT – is your name?"

"Poland."

"Good enough!" said the man cheerily. "Off you go, then!"

"Oh," replied Poland, momentarily stunned. "Uh… Thank you, I guess…" With that, he led Konik across the bridge and waited on the other side.

"I guess I should go next, if we're going in order of narrative importance," said Lithuania, edging forward a little.

"Fair call," agreed Australia.

"Question two," cackled the elderly man. "WHAT – is your quest?"

"To aid my friend Poland in his vaguely-determined goal of winning the Chivalry Cup and becoming a knight," replied Lithuania. The old man snorted.

"Really? Well, good luck with that. Go on. Next!" Australia stepped forward.

"Is this going to be one of those really difficult trick questions or something?" The bridge-keeper raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think that, lad? Anyone with half a working knowledge of comedy should know the answer to this next one."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. See for yourself, I'm asking you now." He paused dramatically, before continuing. "WHAT – movie are these questions blatantly ripped off from?" Australia grinned and breathed a sigh of relief before answering.

"Monty Python's King Arthur and the Holy Grail, of course."

"You are absolutely correct!" replied the man. "Go across and meet your friends!"

"Yeah, I was just about to," said Australia. "Thanks, mate!"

"No problem!" called the bridge-keeper, executing a surprisingly agile backflip for a man of his age and tumbling into the river. Australia walked across the bridge to join the other two.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," he remarked.

"Still totally weird, though," replied Poland, nudging Konik forward.

"HALT!" called a new thundering voice, this one a little lower-pitched than the first. There was a rumbling sound, and an oddly muscular old bearded man wearing green robes burst out of the ground. "BEFORE YOU PASS ON THIS ROAD, YOU MUST SOLVE MY PUZZLE!" he roared.

"All right, we heard you!" shouted Lithuania, covering his ears with his hands. "Just – please, _please_ keep your voice down a little!"

"BUT I WENT OUTSIDE JUST SO I _COULD_ BE LOUD!" bellowed the man blocking the road. "ANYWAY, THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT. I HAVE BEFORE ME THREE CUPS. AS YOU CAN SEE NOW, I AM PLACING A MARBLE BENEATH ONE OF THEM." Indeed, there were three enormous stone cups lying on the ground in front of their noisy obstacle. "YOU HAVE TO GUESS WHICH CUP THE MARBLE IS UNDER."

"That one," said Lithuania, pointing to the middle cup. The old man blinked.

"I HADN'T STARTED YET…" he groaned, before nodding in acceptance. "I GUESS THAT COUNTS, ANYWAY. KIDS THESE DAYS. SO HASTY. OK, YOU CAN ALL PASS." With a soft _whump_, he vanished back into the ground.

"HALT!" called a third voice, before the group had time to register the second quizmaster's disappearance or move from their spot. A pillar of flame roared up in front of the group, and a crone dressed in red robes and sporting a fake beard glued to her chin hobbled forward. "Before you pass, dearies, could one of you fine young boys lend me a waterbottle? I get awfully parched maintaining absolute control over the element of fire, you know, and I'm not as young as I used to be."

"I thought you were going to have some sort of test for us, like the other guys," frowned Australia as he passed his waterbottle to the old woman.

"Well, normally I would, but I really needed that drink," replied the fire master, passing the bottle back to Australia with a thankful nod. "Ta. You're such nice boys."

With that, she turned and walked back into the flames, before both the blaze and the woman vanished.

"So… Do you think we'll be able to make it to South, now?" asked Poland. "I mean… there were three of them, so there aren't likely to be any more, right?"

"Let's not stick around to find out," decided Lithuania.

* * *

"Hmm," pondered the man watching these events unfold. "Hmm…" he continued, stroking his beard with a skinny, wrinkled hand.

"Gentlemen, I believe we have found our champions," he decided at last. An old woman emerged in a burst of flame and stumped over to his side.

"Are you sure? They really are sweet young things, but I don't believe they're cut out for this task."

"I THINK THEY WERE JUST LUCKY, WITH MY PUZZLE AT LEAST," interjected a bearded man who was half-buried in dirt. "SMART-ASSERY AND QUICK THINKING DO NOT A HERO MAKE."

"Well, personally I think they're the best hope we've come across," argued yet another old man, wringing water out of his beard as he spoke. "Besides, they had some sort of weird presence following them around before. If we don't make a decision fast, they might get involved in someone else's plotline, and we'll have missed our opportunity." He glanced at his colleagues. "It's time to choose. Cast your votes; aye or nay to involving these three youths in our storyline?" The man who had spoken last stepped forward and raised a hand.

"I, Harold the Water Master, vote aye."

"I, ROBERT THE EARTH MASTER, VOTE NAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" There was a hesitation, before the old woman shrugged.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to trust these children in their capabilities. I, Penelope the Fire Master, vote aye."

"And I, Samuel the Air Master, vote aye," said the final member of the group fluidly, before smiling broadly. "Then I believe that we, the Order of Bearded Old Guys, have our new champions."


	12. Splitting Up The Party

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – I think this chapter has kind of proved that I spend way too much time lurking on TV Tropes… Also, the Mario Kart incidents are based off my own experiences. I love Mario Kart, but I'm completely and hilariously hopeless at it (to the point of having "who-can-fall-off-the-track-the-most-times" competitions with family members and consistently winning them…) ^_^

Also, review! I see you, non-reviewing people – either three-quarters of the people reading this fic are lazy, or the same four or five people refresh the page a _lot_. I'm not ruling out the latter option, either, so… Prove me wrong and drop a review? I don't bite, honest!

Also also, this is the longest chapter yet. Hmm.

**Disclaimer: The April Fool's Bloodbath this year has made me one very happy fan. I saw Poland checking out Lithuania's questionable photo! That image will have me squeezing for the rest of my life and when I die and go to PoLiet heaven I will still be squeezing and, and- before I get shot I should probably admit once again that I don't own Hetalia.**

**Chapter 12: Splitting Up The Party**

"We're here! We're finally here!" shouted Poland, tumbling off Konik's back and leaving the not-pony to his own devices while he ran over to a tree that stood just inside the city's gates and wrapped his arms around it joyfully. "We're out of the Filler Hills!" he added joyfully, planting a rather scarily enthusiastic kiss on its trunk. Someone walked up to Lithuania's side and cleared their throat a little hesitantly.

"Is it… Worth asking why your friend is making out with a tree?" asked the newcomer. Lithuania glanced over to see Hungary standing next to him, a rather puzzled look on his face.

"Actually, by Poland's standards, this is fairly normal" he informed the fighter.

"Right," she said a little uncertainly. "Um, well… I've kind of been recruited into handing these out to the people competing in the Chivalry Cup, so here. Take one." She passed a piece of embellished cardboard to Lithuania and then smiled. "I guess I'll see you guys around, then." She disappeared back into the crowd as Lithuania glanced at the card.

"An invitation to stay at the South Star Inn?" he murmured as Poland returned from his liaison with the tree.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It says here that they're letting competitors in the Chivalry Cup stay at their inn for free," Lithuania told him, before frowning. "It also says… 'In order to retain any dramatic tension that may have built up between competitors and their travelling companions, this offer extends to those accompanying competitors in the Chivalry Cup.' What do you think that means?"

"Exactly what it says, probably," said Poland. "They want the lead-up to this round of the competition to be more interesting, so you and Australia will be allowed to stay in the same inn as us."

"What I want to know is who's paying for all this," added Australia. "It's kind of odd that they're just billeting us for free."

"It says here… 'By order of the King,'" answered Lithuania, pointing to an insignia at the top right corner of the invitation. "'Signed by Lord Austria, advisor to King Rome. Wow… This looks pretty official."

"That's probably because it _is_ official," said Poland, rolling his eyes.

"Well, should we go?" asked Lithuania.

"It's not like we really have anywhere else to stay," replied Australia. "I say we should."

"Let's go, then!" grinned Poland, tugging on Lithuania's sleeve before pausing. "Uh… Whichever way that is…"

There was a pause.

"I knew it wouldn't be that easy," moaned Lithuania.

* * *

After another hour of searching and a rather unfortunate incident involving a large jar of pickles and a housecat, our heroes made it to the South Star Inn and were ushered to their room.

It was, to put it quite frankly, awesome. Three large beds sporting springy mattresses stood in the corner of the enormous room, which contained a bar fridge, a large-screen TV, a Jacuzzi and a lot of other cool anachronistic objects.

"So… We have a week until the tournament starts, right?" asked Australia.

"Six nights, yeah," replied Lithuania as Australia moved towards the game consoles standing innocently in front of the TV.

"Anyone up for Mario Kart?" he asked. Poland and Lithuania glanced at each other, before identical wicked grins spread across their faces, and they nodded.

That kept them occupied for the next few hours.

"Hello?" called Hungary from outside the door.

"I am _so_ winning the next round!" called Poland's oblivious voice from inside.

"As if," snorted Australia.

"Hello?" Hungary repeated.

"Did you hear something?" asked Lithuania.

"Yes, it's me, Hungary!" said Hungary quickly. "I'd like to talk to Poland for a minute, if that's OK."

"You can come in, you know," floated Poland's voice. "The door's, like, unlocked." Hungary nudged the door; sure enough, it swung open, and Hungary walked into the room.

"I'm sorry to bother you right now, but I've been wondering about something," she began.

"Yeah? What?" asked Poland, not taking his eyes off the screen even for a moment.

"Did you take the time to think about the mistakes you made in the last tournament?" asked Hungary. Poland paused the game and turned to stare at Hungary.

"Wait, what? What mistakes?"

"I'm just saying this as someone who wants to help you out," continued Hungary. "I was watching you in your first two fights, and I think I know how I can help you improve. I think you could be a very good knight and fighter if you were trained properly. I was going to mention this at North, but-"

"Wait," interrupted Poland. "Who says I don't already know how to fight, anyway?" There was a pause.

"It was… kind of obvious."

"Even the matches you won looked kind of… slipshod," Lithuania admitted.

"You were lucky to make it this far, mate," Australia added bluntly.

"Anyway, I was going to ask if you wanted me to teach you a few tricks," Hungary finished.

"But aren't I, like, competing against you and stuff?" asked Poland.

"That's the… general principle behind the Chivalry Cup, yes," replied Hungary.

"Then aren't you scared that I'll use your training against you and totally kick your butt?" There was another awkward silence.

"Not quite yet," said Hungary. "Not this year, anyway. But even if you do become better than me, at least I'll be able to say that I was the one who taught you what you needed to know, rather than… anyone else. So even if I end up losing _against_ you, I'll still be winning _through_ you. If that makes sense."

"Not really," replied Poland. Hungary shook her head.

"Either way, if you want to take up my offer, meet me in the gym in ten minutes. I won't wait." Having said that, she turned and walked out of the room, while Poland frowned confusedly.

"This place has a _gym_?"

* * *

"_Deus ex machina_," stated Hungary as Poland walked into the gym, holding his sword a little nervously.

"…What?"

"It's just a phrase I heard somewhere," explained the girl. "Apparently, it's a literary device where something incredibly unlikely saves the main character from an otherwise unavoidable situation. It's one of biggest cop-outs in fiction, so odds are our writer is relying on it."

"Hey! I resent that," called a muffled, mysterious voice from nearby.

"Anyway, the point is you can use these plot devices to win battles," Hungary continued. "It's simple, really; the trick is to always have an idea up your sleeve. It doesn't matter if it's completely unrealistic; if it's cool and convenient enough, then it will succeed regardless of probability. For example, say I was disarmed and you had your sword against my throat. Normally that would mean you'd won, right?"

"I… guess…" answered Poland.

"Right. So, let's try that now." Hungary pulled a frying pan out of what seemed to be thin air and tossed it to the ground behind Poland. "Put your sword against my throat."

"Are you sure?"

"Poland, it's just a bit of metal. As long as you don't try to stab me I'll be fine." Poland nodded, and raised his sword, holding it an inch away from his mentor's neck.

"So, at this point, you'd normally have won fair and square," Hungary informed him. "_However_ – I am about to win this fight, and do you know why?"

"Well, no, because you haven't explained it yet and-"

"Because _I-_" Hungary interrupted. "_I_ – have a rubber duck." She grinned, and pulled a bright yellow rubber duck out of her hair before throwing it at Poland's face and ducking away from his sword and lunging for her frying pan. "And just like that, I'm back in the game!" she said smugly. Poland stared.

"How did you even _do_ that?" he asked, amazed.

"You did it yourself in your first match," Hungary reminded him. "Remember when you were fighting that kid? You pulled a mobile phone out of nowhere!"

"But I don't know how I did it," Poland protested.

"That's why I'm going to teach you," replied Hungary, rolling her eyes a little. "The trick is to be absolutely convinced that whatever solution you have come up with is completely plausible, and then to just let it happen. Do you understand?"

"Not really." Hungary sighed.

"OK. Try to tell me exactly what was going through your head when you were fighting Sealand."

"I don't, like, remember that stuff!"

"Just try it. You'll be surprised." Poland rolled his eyes.

"Fine. OK, so he was, like, shooting rocks at me and I was all, like, 'Ow, that really hurts.' And then, I realised that they weren't rocks, they were, like, paintballs and that was totally not cool, so I was going to go and kick his smug little butt but then I realised that that would probably be, like, illegal, so then I…" Poland's brow furrowed as he thought. "I… I suddenly got this feeling that there was something I'd forgotten about until now – like, a secret weapon or something. You know that feeling? It was totally _weird_. Anyway, I got that feeling, and then I was all like 'This is my secret weapon!' – And then I got a mobile phone out and… well… that was basically it."

"Can you remember that feeling at all?" asked Hungary.

"Sort of."

"Good. Now try to hold that feeling in your mind."

"You totally sound like some weird New Age guidance counsellor or something, you know."

"Concentrate!"

"OK, fine, sorry. Right. I think I've got it."

"Good," purred Hungary. "Now, we fight!" She lunged at Poland, and he just barely managed to duck under her frying pan as she swung it at his head. "How are you going to get out of this?" she asked as she pulled the frying pan back in another circle. Poland barely managed to block the frying pan with his sword, and the clash of steel on steel made a horrible grating sound as he jumped back, preparing for the next blow.

"By making you stop acting crazy?" he yelled.

"No! Think!"

"By fighting back-"

"Yes! But how?" roared his mentor, swinging her weapon at his head.

"By fighting back with – with this pair of tweezers I just found in my sleeve!" Poland shouted, holding out his hand.

"Perfect!" replied Hungary ecstatically, before blinking and staring at Poland's empty hand. "Um… Where are the tweezers?" Poland stared at his hand too.

"Um… Any minute now… Tweezers!"

The cosmetic tool continued to elude our hero's grasp, and Hungary sighed deeply.

It seemed that helping Poland realise his natural talent would be a much greater task than she had anticipated.

* * *

"So, do you think he'll be back any time soon?" asked Australia as he and Lithuania raced around Rainbow Road for the twenty-eighth time.

"I honestly have no idea," replied Lithuania, swerving a little too far and falling off the side of the track. "Oh…" he said disappointedly, watching his cart disappear into the abyss. Australia gave a quick bark of laughter, before cursing as the momentary distraction led his cart to the same fate as Lithuania's.

"Tough circuit, huh?" he remarked. Lithuania nodded.

"You know, I think I'd better go out and find some food for the three of us soon," he added as his cart was lifted back onto the track. "Poland can eat when he gets back from his training thing with Hungary, but we might as well get some dinner ourselves-"

"FINISHED!" shouted Australia triumphantly, sliding into eleventh place. The twelfth place logo began to dance over Lithuania's half of the screen.

"Wow. We really suck at this game," Lithuania announced amazedly, getting to his feet. "All right. I'll go get food."

"I'll stay here until I can win on Rainbow Road," Australia offered helpfully. Lithuania rolled his eyes.

"Um… Thanks," he muttered, before leaving the room.

"Hello Lithuania," called a smooth voice from outside the door. Lithuania jumped, and turned to stare at the old man emerging from the shadows.

"Who are you?" he said warily.

"My name is Samuel," replied the man, smiling unctuously as he bowed. "I believe you've already met my associates." Instantly, three other bearded figures stepped forward.

"I'm Harold," said one of the men, extending a cool, rather slimy hand for Lithuania to shake. "I don't believe I introduced myself properly before, but I guarded the bridge on the way here."

"And I'm Penelope," said a woman wearing a fake beard warmly. "It's nice to meet you, properly, dear." Lithuania smiled and murmured a quiet "thank you."

"MY NAME'S HAROLD!" roared the final member of the group. There was a pause. "WELL? AREN'T YOU GOING TO ANSWER ME?" he shouted.

"Oh! Sorry! Hello, Harold!" squeaked Lithuania. Samuel tutted.

"No need to be so afraid, my boy. Harold's bark is worse than his bite. Anyway, my Order and I have a bone to pick with you." He slung a friendly arm around Lithuania's shoulders. "Tell me, have you ever considered a career in heroism?" he asked offhandedly. "You see, it has come to the attention of my associates and I that there is about to be a significant increase in demand for those in the world-saving business, and we think that you and your companions are up to the task." He clapped Lithuania on the back. "So, what do you say, my boy? Will you hear what I have to tell you?" Lithuania glanced around at the bearded faces surrounding him.

"Do I… Have a choice?" he asked weakly.

"That's the spirit!" said Samuel brightly. "Now, I guess I'll have to tell you a little bit more about the mission we have planned…"

And so Lithuania, like many fantasy heroes before him, found himself effectively kidnapped by a cult of probably senile magic wielders bent on exposing the backstory of the entire universe as well as the overarching plot of the entire story.

Fortunately for him, there would be a temporary repose as the chapter ended. Of course, this also meant that the readers would just have to sit tight until the next update to find out what, exactly, was going on.

And God only knows when that will be. Two chapters in one week is seriously pushing it.


	13. Exposition

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Yet another update… I'm getting obsessed. Also, I was reading through some of the earlier instalments of this fanfic, and I've noticed a lot of mistakes… Particularly the fact that the paragraph breaks I've been using don't appear to have been working. So yeah. Hopefully my new method will work.

In other news, my guilt trip - *cough* - I mean, my polite request for more reviews seems to have worked! Yay! :D

Oh, and to answer Berry Doyle's question, they were playing the Wii version. I have Mario Kart on the Wii and DS – I'm OK on DS, but hopeless on the Wii… Well, I kind of didn't work very hard at improving. Losing is too much fun XD

**Disclaimer: TV Tropes says it's hard to write crack fics well. I say that as long as I enjoy writing this and other people enjoy reading it, I won't be discouraged. ^_^ I don't own Hetalia.**

**Chapter 13: Exposition**

"Tweezers!" Poland shouted dramatically, flinging out his arm for the umpteenth time with absolutely no effect. Hungary sighed.

"OK, now you're just shouting the words. You've lost the feeling completely, haven't you?"

"This is way too difficult! I totally can't handle this," Poland griped.

"Snap out of it," Hungary retorted. "Now, tap into that feeling and try again. Take a few deep breaths." Poland obeyed, pulling shuddering gulps of air into his lungs, his eyes fluttering closed as he concentrated.

"You can't win…" he mumbled, his voice rising as he continued to speak. "I'm going to win… because I have… a pair… of TWEEZERS!" he shouted, eyes snapping open as he flicked his arm out at Hungary. There was a tinkling sound as a metal object glanced off the girl's frying pan and fell to the ground. She stooped over and picked it up.

"Hmm," she said critically, staring at the shard of steel in her hand. "That's definitely an improvement… You got half a pair of tweezers, at least."

Poland's face instantly contorted into a triumphant grin.

* * *

"Thousands of years ago, the world was bland and humourless," Samuel informed Lithuania as he and his colleagues formed a semicircle around our beloved squire. "We, the Order of Bearded Old Guys, are the only ones who know the true history of our continuum, but this is nonetheless factual. The world was kept in check by an organisation known only as the Fun Police, who monitored the boundaries between fiction and reality and kept the two separated by a mysterious structure; the Fourth Wall."

"The Fourth Wall?" asked Lithuania, puzzled. "What's that?"

"It was a gigantic barrier between the dimensions, a hundred thousand feet tall and made of pure, nigh-indestructible logic," Penelope answered. "While it stood, the rules of the universe were absolute and could not be broken. The writer was separated from the characters at all times, and the characters themselves were not even aware of the audience peering through the wall, watching their lives with interest."

"Those were dark times," said Harold solemnly. "Dark and terrible; and so it was that a hero rose from the ranks of the downtrodden people of the world, and set off on a grand journey to find a weapon that could destroy the Fourth Wall."

"IS IT MY TURN TO TELL THE STORY YET?" asked Robert.

"No!" replied Samuel irritably. "You'll ruin the atmosphere. Harold, please. Continue." Harold nodded.

"The hero underwent many hardships on his quest to find the weapon that could destroy the Fourth Wall," he said dramatically. "It took him many years to achieve his goal, but eventually he found the material for the ultimate blade; implausibility."

"What, so now we have the physical manifestation of implausibility involved in this story?"

"Hey, this isn't just a story, boy," interjected Samuel. "This is _history._ Please keep listening."

"Anyway, like I was saying," continued Harold. "-Like I was saying, the hero finally managed to forge a blade out of implausibility, and with his great sword he travelled to the Fourth Wall and struck an almighty blow against its side. For three days and three nights-"

"-Of course."

"For three days and three nights, he hammered away at the Fourth Wall, bravely fending off the members of the Fun Police who rushed to the wall in an attempt to stop him. Finally, cracks began to appear in the surface of the wall, and suddenly, the entire thing shattered, disintegrating into thousands of tiny pieces."

"But the hero knew that his task was not yet over," added Penelope, picking up the story. "He took the pieces of the Fourth Wall and scattered them throughout the world, ensuring that the Fun Police could not find them all. Only when that was done did he retire to live a peaceful life with his family and six cats named after Harry Potter characters. The hero enjoys cooking and painting and has written four other critically acclaimed books about his experiences saving the world." Lithuania frowned.

"He 'does?' Didn't you say this story took place thousands of years ago?"

"His house is located in an inter-dimensional rift near the ruins of the Fourth Wall, so technically he's still alive in at least a few continuities," Samuel explained. "It's a little confusing, but that's not really the point we are trying to make."

"The Fun Police supposedly disbanded after the Fourth Wall was destroyed, but it looks like they're making a comeback," Harold said darkly. "We have reason to believe that their spies are seeking out the scattered shards of the Fourth Wall in an attempt to rebuild it."

"They have to be stopped," joined Penelope. "If the Fourth Wall is rebuilt, then the spirit of this world – everything that makes it what it is – will be blocked off. That cannot happen."

"If the Fourth Wall is such a bad thing, then why do the Fun Police want to rebuild it?" frowned Lithuania.

"Because some worlds _do_ cope better with a Fourth Wall," Samuel admitted. "Most worlds find a way to become colourful and lively with the presence of a Fourth Wall, but this particular one is fed by a stream of comic relief stemming from the breach in the fabric of reality where the Wall used to stand. The Fun Police don't understand this. They think that the energy of a world – its heart, if you will – should only come from certain sources, and they'll do anything to make sure the entire multi-verse adheres to their own beliefs." He held out his hand to Lithuania. "We need someone to help us stop the Fun Police getting their way, Lithuania. We need _you_. Will you join us?"

There was a moment of stunned silence.

* * *

"GRAAAAH!" shouted Poland, having given up on actually saying the word tweezers when he attacked Hungary. A few shards of metal flew out from his fingertips; his mentor didn't even bother to block or dodge them as she lightly punched Poland in the shoulder.

"Almost. You almost had it."

"No! I _do_ have it!" shouted Poland ecstatically, holding out his hand. There, cupped in his palm, stood a pair of pink, sparkly tweezers. Hungary bounced on her feet, grinning.

"Well, it's about time! Great job, Poland!" She paused. "Now… how exactly would a pair of tweezers help you fight me, anyway."

"…Crap."

* * *

"I…" stuttered Lithuania. "I… I'm very sorry, but I can't take you up on your offer."

"WHAT?" shrieked Robert, his face turning into a rough caricature of an angry radish in tropical heat. "WHY NOT?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't really believe your story about this 'secret history,'" Lithuania admitted. "And for another thing, I'm helping Poland become a knight. That's kind of a full-time job."

"Well, obviously the offer extended to your companions," Samuel said. "We approached you because you seem to be the most reliable one."

"It's fine if you don't take up our offer straight away," Harold added. "I should probably tell you this, though; now that you know about this plotline, you'll probably end up involved at some point whether you like it or not."

"So the odds are you'll find out that we were telling the truth all along soon enough," assented Penelope. "We're not petty. We understand why you would want to reject our offer-"

"I DON'T!"

"- And we're perfectly happy to wait until you are comfortable with your destiny," finished Samuel. "Until then, please consider this encounter to be nothing more than a fair warning."

"We'll see you next time, dear," smiled Penelope. "Until then, take care." There was a roar of flame as the old woman disappeared, and a cracking sound as Robert disappeared into the floor. A wreath of mist gathered around Harold, whisking him away, before Samuel turned to Lithuania and bowed.

"Remember, we're the Order of Bearded Old Guys – the Order of BOG for short," he said. "Call on us if you do find anything related to this plotline, all right?"

"Will do," said Lithuania resignedly.

"Atta boy," said Samuel with a wink, before leaping out of a nearby window, only to be carried away on a lazy current of air. Lithuania stared out the window for a moment, before jumping as he realised what he had originally set out to do.

"Better get some food…"

* * *

"So then I was like, 'oh no you _didn't_,' and then she was like, 'oh yes I _did_,' and then we ran out of eyeliner and it went totally downhill from there," chattered Poland as he plucked at Hungary's eyebrows with a serious expression on his face.

"Really?" asked the girl, wincing a little as the stray hairs were ruthlessly ripped from her face.

"Yee-up," replied Poland. "Right!" he called, hiding the discarded frying pan behind his back. "All done! You look absolutely fabulous now! Oh, and by the way, I have your weapon, so does that mean I, like, won the fight?" Hungary blinked.

"WHAT?" she screeched, a flash of anger showing on her face that disappeared almost immediately as she began to chuckle. "Yes… I suppose it does…"

"Yay!" squealed Poland, dropping the frying pan on the ground and hugging his friend. "Thank you so, _so_ much for teaching me all that… stuff. About pulling tweezers out of nowhere."

"No problem," replied Hungary with genuine warmth, before letting go of her new friend. "We're not all done, though. You deserve a break for today, but it's possible that that was a fluke. I won't be able to say I taught you properly until you can consistently-"

"Cool!" shouted Poland. "I'm gonna go find Liet now, but same place tomorrow morning?"

"Um… I guess, but-"

"Right! OK, bye!" With a cheery wave, Poland bounded out the door and began to search for his friend. "Liet?" he called in a sing-song voice as he skipped down the corridor. "Liet, Liet, Liet! Liet, Liet, Liet? LIET!" he finished, finding his friend walking through a nearby hallway and running up to his side.

"Wha-" stuttered Lithuania as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. "What- oh, it's you. How was training?"

"Good," answered Poland, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "Guess what I learnt?"

"How to sneak attack people with hugs?"

"No! I've, like, always known how to do that. I learnt how to summon _tweezers_!" There was a pause as Lithuania racked his brains for something to say.

"Uh… Well, that… Um… Well, I'm sure that'll be… useful… Oh, I got us some dinner!" he said, quickly holding out a large paper bag that was, apparently, full of food. "I was just about to take it back to the hotel room."

"Then let's go!" crowed Poland.

"Um, right, but… You'll have to let go of me first," Lithuania said apologetically. Poland's arms dropped to his sides, and Lithuania rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly before walking off with his friend.

"So, how _do_ you summon tweezers?"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the hotel room, Australia finally managed to place first on Rainbow Road.

There was much rejoicing.


	14. Training

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Stupid fanfic… WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU? I've been writing an outline of this whole entire thing, since it seems to be developing a plot at an alarming rate, and I've ended up with some… rather extensive notes.

But I'd just like you to know that just because there is a plot doesn't mean I am going to stray from my principles and actually take this story seriously. The wackiness is still safe.

**Disclaimer: I should probably do more homework and less of this… Oh well. I don't own Hetalia.**

**Chapter 14 – Training**

"Mechanical monkey! Attack her!" shouted Poland from the ground as Hungary loomed over him, frypan in hand. The brass primate leapt at the girl's back with a loud clattering sound, and she smoothly ducked under it before pulling a flamethrower out of midair and blasting Poland's newest weapon with concentrated heat, melting it into a puddle. Poland smirked from the ground.

"You might have defeated the monkey, but you're still no match for my army of mercenary penguins!" he declared, glancing at the windows.

Nothing much happened.

"Don't get too ambitious with your ideas just yet," Hungary told him, smoothly throwing the flamethrower back to its invisible container. "Things like summoning armies usually take years of practice. I've told you that at least twice today. Also, how could you afford to pay for a penguin army?"

"They made me their emperor after I totally kicked their last leader's butt." The corners of Hungary's mouth twitched into a proud smile.

"You're getting good at coming up with tenuous explanations for these things, too, even if they don't quite work. Actually, you're doing a lot better than I expected. Well done!" Poland grinned as Hungary consulted her wristwatch.

Yes, she has a wristwatch. Just because I didn't mention it before this moment doesn't mean that it couldn't have been there the whole time. It was meant to be a surprise for all of you.

Anyway, Hungary consulted her wristwatch and then glanced back up at Poland.

"OK, having said that, I kind of have somewhere that I have to be," she informed our hero. "Meet me back here at this same place tomorrow and I'll keep teaching you, OK?"

"Right," agreed Poland, a little surprised. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that Hungary might actually have a life of her own outside of being his mentor and possibly rival.

"Thank you," replied Hungary before walking out of the gym. Poland waved goodbye to her and then stood still for a moment as the full consequences of this mysterious appointment finally hit him.

"Wait… _Now_ what am I going to do?"

* * *

"YEAH!" shouted Australia, jumping up and performing a victory lap around the couch as Lithuania slumped back into the cushions, staring at the replay of their latest Mario Kart race.

"You're getting pretty good at this," he remarked. "You've won the past five rounds in a row." He placed the controller down on the coffee table and stood up. "I really feel like I should be doing something productive right now, though…"

"Lighten up," replied Australia cheerfully. "Don't tell me you're going to be a sore loser about this."

"I'm not being a sore loser," Lithuania attempted to explain. "I'm just-"

"I was kidding," Australia reassured him with a grin. "What were you planning to do, though? All we're doing at the moment is waiting for the tournament to start."

"I was thinking of finding a library and doing some research," Lithuania admitted. "There are… A few historical matters that I'd like to take a look at. They may be important later on." Australia shrugged.

"…Do you need me to go with you for that?"

"Not if you don't want to come along."

"Have fun!"

"Uh… Thanks," said Lithuania as Australia began a new, solo game of Mario Kart. "You too, I guess…"

* * *

In one of the many elegant, beautifully decorated rooms on the first floor of the inn, there stood a deep blue carpet.

Resting upon that deep blue carpet was a sleek grand piano, with keys that gleamed black and white as a slender pair of hands danced across them, coaxing rich melodies from the instrument.

Attached to the hands, a pair of arms moved back and forth, obedient to the commands of the music.

Attached to the arms was, rather unsurprisingly, a torso, and that torso belonged to a bespectacled man with dark hair, who gazed across the piano with faraway violet eyes.

Hungary stood in the corner of the room, watching quietly as the pianist played. It was a habit they had gotten into; in pretty much every AusHun fic I can think of, some variation of this scene has occurred. It's very peaceful and nice the first couple of times, and it's a fairly good representation of the nature of their relationship, but it's happened a few too many times to really stay interesting.

So a certain bored fanfic writer decided to mix things up. For no logical reason at all, a large number of killer mongooses began to swarm into the room, presumably attracted by the Sound of Music (pun intended.) Wave after wave of mongoose flesh poured through the room's windows as the enraged creatures rushed towards the man playing the piano. Hungary leapt between the attacking creatures and their target, brandishing her frypan and laying into the beasts with a mighty battle cry.

The music continued as she attacked and, gradually, eliminated the horde, leaving piles of furry bodies heaped upon the carpet. Which is actually kind of horrible when you think about it. Poor animals. They didn't ask to go mad and attack some guy sitting at a piano in a fancy inn; they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It's OK, though. As soon as the mongooses had been defeated, they disappeared, returning to the mysterious realm from whence they had came to recover from their injuries without suffering any lasting trauma, aside from a unanimous decision not to mess with Hungary.

"Mr. Austria, are you all right?" called Hungary, breathing a little heavily. The music stopped abruptly as Austria blinked and turned to her.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He paused. "Was I attacked by mongeese again?"

"I'm… Pretty sure the plural is 'mongooses…'" Hungary corrected. "And… Yes." She frowned. "Why do they hate you so much?"

"I honestly have no idea." He cleared his throat. "Thank you anyway, though… You… have been a great help to me, these past few days." Hungary turned a little pink and nodded.

"M-My pleasure," she stammered.

At that point, the fanfic writer realised that she _still_ hadn't managed to come up with an original idea for these two, and decided to call it quits and just end the scene without actually explaining why Austria was there.

* * *

Lithuania staggered over to a table with a tall pile of books, before dropping them onto the flat surface with a considerable amount of relief and flipping open to the index of the topmost volume. He'd chosen books regarding history, mythology and magic in the vague hope that one of them would contain information on the Fourth Wall, or at least the organisation that had put him up to this task. So far he'd gone through two stacks of books with very little luck, but he had by no means even begun to exhaust the South Municipal Library's resources. The place was massive, a labyrinth of bookshelves, tables and displays in a way that defied credulity and outstripped the wildest dreams of even the most dedicated bibliophile.

Unfortunately, that made it a little difficult to find things.

"Do you need some help there?" called a rather cheery voice from nearby. Lithuania lifted his head up to see a tall, smiling man with silvery hair and a scarf wrapped around his neck.

"I've been looking for books on history too," continued the man, his violet eyes fixated on Lithuania as he spoke. "Maybe we could help each other. Wouldn't that be nice?" A shiver ran down Lithuania's spine. It was completely unreasonable, but something about this man just… terrified him.

"I… I think I'm right for the moment, actually," he squeaked. The man frowned a little, puzzled, as Lithuania hastened to correct his mistake. "Actually, you know what, that would be great. Um… Thank you." He was being ridiculous, he decided as the stranger's face broke into an inexplicably chilling smile. The man had merely offered to help him; there was no need to be so-

"Glad to hear it," replied the man, extending a hand for Lithuania to shake. "I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? My name's Russia. What's yours?"

"Li-Lithuania."

"That's a nice name," said Russia cheerily. "I'm sure we'll be best friends. Don't you agree?"

"Um… Sure…" Russia gave another sinister smile, and Lithuania hastily applied himself to his research, racking his brains for something to say to the imposing presence now hovering over his shoulder, painfully aware that his new "best friend" was staring over his shoulder the entire time. It was with considerable guilty relief that Lithuania made his excuses and returned to the inn, trying to shake the intense feeling of foreboding that had come over him.

* * *

"So, what do you have to report?" asked England, folding his arms and looking at Poland expectantly.

"Well, we made it to South," said our hero brightly. "And I learnt how to summon tweezers out of nowhere, and Lithuania is kind of jumpy for some reason – well, I guess that isn't really new – and our other companion has spent the entire time playing Mario Kart. He's doing it right now. Look!" He gestured over to the couch, where Australia sat, visible only as a silhouette against the glow of the TV screen. "Apart from that, not much. This was, like, a filler chapter, I think."

"LIES!" roared a voice from nearby.

"Oh, and Stalker Voice came back."

"Stalker Voice?" asked England.

"It's our name for that weird presence that keeps following us."

"Are you referring to me?"

"No, the other one." England stared at Poland for a moment before shrugging.

"Right… Well, all right, then. I guess I haven't missed much then, anyway."

"The next tournament is coming up really soon, though!" Poland argued. "So… I'll have some interesting stuff to say soon. Just not right now."

"Well, when that happens I'll return to recap," England answered crisply. "Until then, best of luck." He vanished, and Australia turned around.

"…Did I miss something?"

"Not really," replied Poland, his attention instantly redirected towards a futile attempt at summoning a bowl of marshmallows to snack on.

The marshmallows would remain elusive, Lithuania would remain somewhat paranoid, and Australia would remain addicted to Mario Kart until the next chapter, which would hopefully not be as filler-ish as the last one. Until the fic updates again, may all the lovely readers and reviewers stay free of painful injuries and annoying sounds, and may their paths be lighted by a thousand really nice-smelling candles.


	15. The Labyrinth

**A Rather Silly AU Fic**

A/N – Ugh, sorry it's been so long… I'm in my last year of high school, so that means I've been pretty much constantly swamped with schoolwork. So my updating schedule may be a little… unreliable… until November. But you've probably noticed that pattern already.

Also, I have to say I love looking at the story traffic graphs… Seeing all the different countries I get hits from always makes me smile ^_^

**Disclaimer: Wooby gonobb Hetalia zukoo. That's Simlish for "I don't own Hetalia." Probably.**

**Chapter 15 – The Labyrinth**

"Ladies, gentlemen and other members of the audience, welcome to the second round of this year's Chivalry Cup!" called Finland from the commentator's box. "Any minute now, our competitors will find out what you can already see for yourselves; for the purposes of this tournament, our arena here at South has been converted into a giant maze! As you can see, large television screens have been placed on the walls of the stadium for the convenience of the audience. These screens will show our competitors as they attempt to make their way past the obstacles, traps and various wild animals our labyrinth comes stocked with and battle their opponent. The winner is simply the last man standing, and there is no guarantee that all of our competitors will even make it far enough to fight each other!" He paused.

"After the tournament ends, a pie-eating competition will be open to all present. We encourage all of you in the audience to participate, as a hefty prize will be given to whoever can eat the most. Now, let's hear it for _THE COMPETITORS!_" An almighty cheer welled up from the crowd as our brave contestants marched out into the arena, Poland among them.

"I am, like, so ready for this," he murmured, holding his head up high and waving at the screaming fans.

"Match one will be Hungary versus Greece," announced Finland.

"…Oh. OK then," muttered Poland as he was promptly herded back into the competitors' waiting room along most of the others.

* * *

Poland was not called out for the second match or the third. Instead, he waited with the other competitors, trying to pretend that he wasn't about to start panicking as wild thoughts flitted through his head.

_Why haven't I been picked yet?_

_Did they forget about me?_

_I thought main characters always got picked first. Does this mean I'm not the main character anymore?_

_I don't want to be a minor character! Minor characters get killed off early!_

For some reason this thought was accompanied by an image of a white blobby creature with a green light hanging off a stalk attached to its forehead. Poland had absolutely no idea why, but the image kind of creeped him out.

"Next up, Poland versus Sweden!" announced Finland with the impeccable timing of a seasoned plot furtherer.

If that's a word.

Oh well. Even if it isn't, it should be.

"FINALLY!" exclaimed Poland, leaping to his feet.

"This way, please," said an attendant, guiding Poland towards a door nearby. On the other side of the room, a tall, blonde-haired man was being led towards a different door.

"Right," crackled Finland's voice. "The match begins as soon as the competitors enter the arena! Last man standing wins!"

"On your marks…"

"Get set…"

"GO!"

* * *

About thirty seconds later, our fearless hero was sprinting for his life through the labyrinth, dodging pitfalls and traps as a small herd of poisonous oysters bounced after him.

Don't ask me how that happened.

"HOW DIDTHIS EVEN HAPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEN?" wailed Poland as he ran, rather rudely ignoring the fanfic writer's request as the ground beneath his feet caved in. He leapt across the hole, sprawling to the other side. Clicking irritably, the oysters fidgeted on one side of the chasm. Poland grinned.

"So what, you can't jump that far?" he asked tauntingly. One of the oysters snapped its jaws, and sprung across the pitfall, landing on the other side about a foot away from Poland. His eyes widened.

"Oh no-"

_CHOMP_.

Turns out that this particular species of oyster can actually jump pretty far, and its bite, though not deadly to humans, still has some… interesting effects.

Poland ended up with one purple paralysed leg, which pretty much guaranteed a win for Sweden, since he hadn't been stupid enough to walk into an oyster nest.

I mean, come _on_, if you were to see a bunch of oysters wandering around on land, then would you really want to go near them? Some people really need to learn to be more careful.

* * *

Fortunately for our hero, oyster bites, though excruciatingly – and I do mean _agonisingly_ (even though that wasn't what I said) – I do mean _unimaginably_ painful to the person experiencing them, can be cured extremely quickly through the timely application of anti-venom. Within a few minutes, Poland was back on his feet, a little traumatised but nonetheless ready and pumped for his next round.

"There's no way I'm going back out there."

"Come on," urged the attendant exasperatedly. "Look, I'm sure the oysters will have calmed down by now. Don't you want to get out there and show the crowd how you can win a match?"

"I never want to go anywhere ever again."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, you're not even going to _remember_ this incident once it stops being convenient for the writer!" snapped the attendant. "Now, I've been informed that you're a main character, and that this is the plot. You can't just try to get out of the plot, it simply isn't an option, so if you want to learn anything at all from your experience with the oysters, I suggest you get out there now. They called your match five minutes ago." Poland glared at the attendant, unwilling to admit that he had a point.

"You will never know the true extent of the suffering I have gone through today," he said darkly, heading out into the arena.

"All right, and it looks like our other competitor is finally back!" chirped Finland. "Now, we're running low on time, so I won't bother with the countdown for this match. Poland versus Prussia – GO!"

Almost immediately, Poland heard the crunch of boots as a man wandered lazily around the corner.

"Hey! Farm boy! You're about to get kicked back to Hicksville by the awesome me!" he declared, red eyes glinting as he drew his sword.

"Oh yeah? Well you're about to get…" Poland paused, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Um…"

"About to get beaten. _Grandpa_," he finished feebly, eyeing his opponent's silver hair. The man smirked.

"I doubt it," he replied, charging at Poland.

To Poland's credit, he managed to block the first strike.

He had less luck with the following ones, and in a matter of seconds found himself lying on the ground, bruised and battered from being pummelled with the flat of Prussia's blade.

…I have a feeling that there was something not quite right with that sentence, but I'm not sure exactly what… Anyway.

"And this match goes to Prussia!" called Finland from the commentator's box. "Looks like his winning streak is holding up; Poland barely even put up a fight!"

Poland groaned a little as he was dragged onto a stretcher and carried off.

"This is… totally humiliating…" he murmured, glaring at the red-eyed swordsman, who merely grinned and waved.

* * *

"Well, the good news is you'll be healed in time for your final match," Hungary informed him from her spot on the edge of Poland's bed in the infirmary.

"The bad news is that I'll probably lose that, too," finished Poland moodily, staring down at the bed-sheets. "You saw how I got beaten today, even with your training."

"Actually, you did well," Hungary replied, before pausing. "…Well, not against the oysters. You definitely screwed that one up."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey, there's no point in lying to you," Hungary answered levelly. "Everyone has their moments. Anyway, the point is, you put up a good fight against Prussia."

"I couldn't even land a hit on him!" Hungary glanced at Poland quizzically.

"You do realise who Prussia is, right?"

"Never heard of him in my life."

"Did you actually watch any of the Chivalry Cup before you joined it, or did you just wake up one day and decide it would be a good idea?"

"I never watched the Chivalry Cup because none of the rounds were held anywhere near my village, and my fairy godfather told me to compete because he thought it would be a good idea," retorted Poland. "Why? What's the big deal with Prussia?" Hungary sighed.

"Am I going to have to tell a story again?" she asked resignedly.

Poland nodded.

"…Fine." Hungary turned to face Poland a little more, and settling on the edge of the bed, she began to speak. "Once upon a time, not a particularly long time ago, there was a town that went by the name of North…"


	16. A Rather Serious Notice

**A Quick Notice from the Writer**

Um, OK. This is a little difficult to say, but… as you can probably tell from the lack of updates, I haven't been able to keep writing this fic regularly. I've lost the drive that I used to have, both for this fic and for the Hetalia fandom in general. I've tried to start the next chapter a few times, but I always ended up running into a rut and getting frustrated. Which is very detrimental to the writing style I'm trying to employ here.

So yeah… Sorry for those of you who may have been awaiting updates, but this fic is officially on hiatus, and that'll probably be permanent. I'll still try to continue my other Hetalia fanfic, Legato, as an exercise in writing, but that has a very different, much more serious style than this. And to be honest, the only reason I'm continuing that is because I want to know if I can manage something as ambitious as what I have planned for it.

Sorry to end on such a downer. I'll come back if I ever remember why I loved this fandom in the first place. That would be kind of hilarious, actually, considering how dramatic I'm being right now. Just waltz back in with another chapter and be like "Actually, guys, I changed my mind. Look, exposition!"

But the way things are going now, that isn't going to happen. So yeah.

Thanks for sticking with me this long. Your reviews and your support really did make me smile. Each and every person who read this far gets the official Prussia Badge of Awesomeness. I'm sure that's a thing somewhere.

Yours sincerely,

Kiri Ame.


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